Skypoint Academy SYOC
by Knight Hospitaller
Summary: Skypoint Tower overlooks one of the few cities that remain relatively untouched by the events of the Tragedy. The city's denizens look up to this great monument in awe, oblivious to the sad fate that had befallen those now trapped within. A new Killing Game has begun. [On pseudo-hold because holy balls, college is eating my time!]
1. Prologue

I'm shivering in anticipation… He's coming!

Hope's Peak's academy's greatest achievement, Junko-sama's most devoted follower… he's coming to visit _me_ , a lowly pickpocket!

But someone like Kamukura-san wouldn't come to visit just anyone, no. I created all this for him, just like he set fire to the world for her. A killing game, to match the one the Ultimate Despair herself set up in the very academy that welcomed us all.

I made it special, though. Kamukura-san wouldn't accept just another pale imitation. He would need to see that it's _interesting_ , that it can only ever bring undeniable _despair_ …

I'm the Ultimate Pickpocket – other people are geniuses of creation, destruction and subterfuge, while the one thing I excel at is the illicit acquiring of information. I was passing by through one of the safe zones when a particular pocket caught my eye – the pocket of a member of the Future Foundation.

Funny thing, that. An organization devoted to undoing the despair Junko-sama had brought to the world… they even picked up those bastards that survived the Killing Game. A blight upon the world that was a blight in itself… an ultimately pointless banding of men.

So a plan came together. One pocket always leads to another, and a man's pocket hides just enough secrets… Secrets that, when put to use, bring people together. They brought them to Skypoint.

It was a lovely idea – a place to rival Hope's Peak, the competition, as they'd say. They would raise their students into the sky just like their gifts would raise humanity itself closer to the heavens. Wishful thinking, all of it, and the Tragedy struck before it ever opened to the populace.

Skypoint academy, a school atop a tower, windows spread all around it so that the city below could always look up and see the bright, shining hope of the future… A great tomb for the promising talents that volunteered themselves to the Future Foundation.

The elevator doors open, and he looks at me. He _looks at me_. Kamukura-san looks at me like I'm worthy of his eyes, and he walks into the beautiful trap I constructed. It's all too real, and I'm almost struck speechless:

"It's… It's finished. I wanted you to s-see it, I thought it'd… interest you."

"The construction is immaculate, built better than Hope's Peak…" he drawled, walking up to one of the tower windows, "this is a place for a killing game."

"Yes!" I agreed, careful not to smile.

"Come."

So I did, walking up to the window, watching with hidden glee as he effortlessly finds the concealed button, forcing the glass aside.

The strong wind whips us both, and I can't help but admire the way his hair flows… the day he cuts it is the day I die…

"You created a perfect killing game. You've somehow acquired the Monokuma AI, and have produced enough bodies to pull it off… you've even lured in members of the Future Foundation, coming here from across the globe as we speak, not one of them aware of the others."

"I had to do my part… I wasn't with you during the tragedy, so I…"

"You did well," he spoke, just the slightest of glints in his eye.

I felt a strong shove, the ground giving way under my feet. I turn, looking at the already fading figure of Izuru Kamukura, and I realize what I've done wrong.

I made him feel glad about something – I've insulted him, and everything he believes in.

The river is where I'll land, and its shore is where my body will wash up, broken into chunks by the impact of the fall. Just another corpse in a world with so many of them.

Doesn't matter.

The Killing Game of Skypoint Academy has already begun.

* * *

 **Yet another SYOC… this time, atop a tower!**

 **An important gimmick is the fact that an OC has to be a member of the Future Foundation, and thus dedicated to healing the world from the effects of the worldwide despair.**

* * *

 **A lot of fun applications came in! I'll credit the contributors of the characters at the end of their run with the story, when they inevitably meet a grisly fate.**

 **We've got:**

 **-** _ **The Ultimate Freerunner ( & Protagonist), Ellie Doerner**_

 _ **-The Ultimate Pirate, Ulrick Milliner**_

 _ **-The Ultimate DJ, Matt Lucas**_

 _ **-The Ultimate Butler, Dylan Miles**_

 _ **-The Ultimate Roboticist, Boris Petrov**_

 ** _-The Ultimate Stuntman, Amand Bretz_**

 ** _-The Ultimate Boxer, Asami Katozumi_**

 ** _-The Ultimate Ghost Hunter, Evelyn Shmidt_**

 _ **-The Ultimate Falconer, Liam Wright**_

 _ **-The Ultimate Vigilante, Kenji Mai**_

 _ **-The Ultimate Commander, Farran White**_

 _ **-The Ultimate F-1 Racer, Lucille DuCarde**_

 _ **-The Ultimate Illusionist, Seina Arakasawa**_

 _ **-The Ultimate Criminologist, Solvia Corraine**_

 _ **-The Ultimate Cosplayer, Christine Riese**_

 _ **-The Ultimate Caligrapher, Hoshika Yoshinaga**_

* * *

 **That's everyone! Thanks for sending 'em over!**


	2. Strike Up the Band!

**Let's get this show on the road!**

* * *

You know your day is going to be bad when you wake up in an elevator, covered with exclusively purple confetti, with a headache so strong you'd think there's a knife lodged somewhere in there…

My name's **Ellie Doerner** , and I'm a graduate of the prestigious Hope's Peak academy. Before it became a death arena, that is – it used to actually be a place of education, you know.

This place was actually supposed to be a rival school, but…

"Look, another one's opened up!"

I stumble into what looks like a hotel lobby, half-dazed, brushing the completely random confetti from my clothes. The three individuals don't exactly go out of their way to welcome me, but I _am_ pointed to a rather fancy-looking lounge couch, to get my bearings.

Aside from me, it's two guys and a girl, each stranger than the last.

"Lemme guess, you were sent to Skypoint by the Future Foundation, and blacked out the moment you stepped into the elevator, right?"

Before replying, I give the guy a good look over. He's dark skinned, with thick black hair done into dreadlocks that hang loosely all the way down to his shoulders. That, combined with his Hawaiian shirt and khaki shorts makes me think he's some kind of junkie or weed bro… but his stance is notably military, which creates a weird dissonance.

"Yeah… who exactly are you?"

"Right," he grins, scratching his head, "The name's **Matt Lucas**. Back when I was in Hope's Peak, I was the **Ultimate DJ.** "

"An exceedingly lame talent, I might add," the curly-haired brunette added, legs swinging in a way that suggested anything between mild boredom and intense anxiety.

"Pfft, beats **Boxer** , **Asami.** At least I'm original flavor, not a sub-talent of Oogami's."

She gasped, scandalized: "You take that back! I'll show you _sub-talent_!"

Ignoring them, I turned to look at the other guy, who was even stranger-looking than Matt.

He's clearly younger than me, with a head of strikingly red hair that looks almost dyed. There's a pair of glasses perched on his nose, and only when he turns to face me do I notice the fact that one of his eyes is glazed over white, like from an injury or something. It's unnerving.

"The only way out is locked. We tried taking the elevator back down, but it's unresponsive… By the way, I'm **Kenji, Kenji Mai**. It's really nice to meet you."

The way he jumps between serious and friendly is way jarring, but I guess I shouldn't be surprised. At this day and age, with the world as it is, people can look however they want to so long as they're fighting the good fight, him included.

"You're from Hope's Peak too, right?" he asks, repeatedly adjusting his glasses, "what were you known for, if I may ask?"

"Me? I was the **Ultimate Freerunner** , but that was years ago," I drawl, only now realizing that it's been _4 years_. Where'd all that time go?

"And yet you've been picked up by the Foundation, just like me."

"Well, yeah…"

I can see there's more he wants to say, but for some reason he stays quiet, fading into the background once more.

"You don't think that we'll be…?"

"No," he cuts me off, "too early to jump to conclusions."

Nonetheless, the moment it appeared, the thought solidified into a stone that lodged itself in my gut. Any gathering of Ultimates in the wake of the tragedy is done either to advance hope by beating back the onslaught of the Mono-mobs and the machinations of Ultimate Despair, or to perform a mass execution…

"Hey, look! Another one's coming up!"

* * *

"So, let me get this straight… you _all_ woke up in the same elevator?"

Matt, who we seem to have designated as our group speaker, was confused. With good reason, seeing as a trio as strange as the one that welcomed me just arrived in the elevator.

Ok, maybe trio is the wrong word, since that's technically four living creatures…

"And you had that bird with you _before_ you passed out? What are you, the Ultimate _Birdman_ or something?" Asami chimed in, not taking her eyes off the feathered predator.

" **Falconer** ," he corrected, "and his name's **_Rocket_**."

"Let me guess, you're all Future Foundation?" Kenji cut in, completely ignoring Matt.

"Exactement! How did you know?" the girl to his right spoke up, with a notable French accent.

By strange, I was mostly referring to the way the girls were dressed. While they were both clad in mostly white, this one was notably taller, with beautiful tanned skin, emerald eyes, and a short mess of sun-kissed blonde hair.

She seemed to be wearing a racing suit of some kind, as the multitudes of emblems sown into the front were all the ones you usually see at LeMans, though it was halfway unzipped, revealing a comparatively plain shirt underneath.

"We all went through the same thing, and-"

With a lively step, she dashed out of the elevator, crashing onto the couch, right next to me:

"Bon!" she exclaimed, stretching out, "Je suis **Lucille DuCarte** , formerly known as the **Ultimate F-1 Racer**. And what's your name, beautiful?"

"I…uh…"

Was she _hitting on me?_ But I'm…

"Yeah, you might as well share," the falconer spoke up, still standing next to the second girl, "you have us at a disadvantage. The name's **Liam** , by the way; Nice to meet you."

This is just too much. Lucille hitting on me, Liam being so to-the-point but polite… Hope's Peak was never _this_ overwhelming, I think… or maybe I've just gotten older?

The last girl was the crown jewel of the set, though. While Liam and Lucille could pass as regular people at first glance, this girl looked like something plucked straight from a Vegas show poster. She had it all, white tux, fine gloves, immaculately polished white shoes, and even a _mini top hat!_

"…"

Wordlessly, she took up a spot against the wall, crossing her arms and looking over the lot of us with her eerie red eyes. I couldn't tell whether they were contacts or her natural color, since it could go either way…

"Look, I appreciate a class act as much as the next girl, but we're going to need a name, ok?" Asami spoke up, Matt being too fascinated with the bird, Rocket, to speak.

"Me? I guess you can call me White Void…"

"Wait… I _know_ that name…" Kenji frowned, "You're a costumed vigilante, like something out of a manga…"

She nodded, then reached into a pocket and retrieved a fine white mask, pressing it against her face:

"You are correct, Kenji Mai, **Ultimate Vigilante**."

He seemed to recoil at that, clearly not expecting that anyone would recognize him or his talent.

"I am that crime fighter, though I've had to make do with my own talent… the talent of the **Ultimate Illusionist.** "

"…"

He was red in the face, but he said nothing, merely watching the strange girl with dispassionate focus. It was clear he didn't appreciate having his talent outed, but for some reason, he didn't push the issue further – odd.

Though, honestly, I think I'm going to need bigger words than 'odd' or 'strange' if these people keep coming up like this.

"You are shy?" Lucille asks, teasingly, "come, mon ami, I won't bite."

I get up from the couch, trying desperately to hide my blushing, all for naught. She just giggles at my reaction, taking up the room I left vacated and blowing me a kiss when I look back at her.

"You really are shameless…" Liam observes, Rocket bobbing its (Her? His?) head in agreement.

"Straightforward is what I am," she grins, "it makes life easier, no?"

"Right…"

* * *

It wasn't long until another elevator came up, this time bearing only two people.

"You're both Future Foundation, and you're both formerly Hope's Peak," Matt announces, more like a statement than a question.

"Yeah… how'd you know?" the girl asks.

"He's the Ultimate Psychic, of course!" Asami offers, rather helpfully, getting swatted at in response – she dodges without even looking.

"So this is the crew, huh?" the guy observes, stepping out into our little waiting room, "aye, you'll work."

"For who?"

"Pfft!" he grins, as if the question in itself is insanity, "for _me_ , of course! Mr. **Silver** , at yer service!"

He makes an exaggerated bow; the black coat he has draped over his shoulders like a cloak fluttering like…well, a cloak. His boyish good looks make his smile shine brighter, and the messy brown hair only adds to the exotic fantasy.

In fact, everything about him has an air of that old world charm, the kind you'd think would be extinct in the age of despair.

"What are you, the **Ultimate Pirate?** " it's Liam that ends up asking the question we're all thinking about.

"Exactly," he nods, "the _classy_ , swashbuckling sort, not that savage Somalian nonsense, either!"

With his larger-than-life style, the girl is comparatively plain. She has pretty hazel eyes, and her hair, a beautiful brown hue, is tied into a loose ponytail.

"He's for real. I didn't want him to be, but he's for real. I thought his kind were extinct."

"Forget about him!" Lucille offers, patting the spot I used to sit in, "come, sit!"

She just smirks at that, shaking her head in disbelief:

"Colorful people, all of you… is that a _falcon?_ "

"Rocket, say hi," Liam instructed.

"…"

Apparently, Rocket was tsundere down to the last feather.

"Yeah… so, you're all FF?"

"Each and every one," I nod.

"Right… ok, I'm **Evelyn Shmidt**. Before this, I was the **Ultimate Ghost Hunter**."

There was a moment of stunned silence in the room.

"What?"

"Oh nothing, pirates, ghost hunters… I'm just wondering who's going to pop up here next…"

Naturally, everyone pretty much introduced themselves. The interaction between ' _White Void'_ and Mr. Silver was particularly humorous, the self-proclaimed pirate king (which I'm calling an on-the-spot improvisation) not backing down until he actually managed to get her real name – **Seina.**

Though we were all in high spirits as we waited for the next set of Foundation members, I couldn't help but think about what Kenji implied – why _are_ we gathering here?

* * *

 **That's half the cast!**

 **It's so hard presenting characters properly without overloading everything with information. Hopefully, as the game goes on, personalities will end up being more rounded-out.**


	3. The Other Half

**I have no idea how a review came up with Fairy Tail. I have legit, never in my life, ever heard of that - had to google it out of sheer curiosity.**

 **Also, keeping so many characters speaking is so much easier in a VN...**

* * *

You know how old-world cinemas used to look? That's the vibe I get from this waiting room of ours – all fine wood, comfortable seating, thick curtains… a completely useless room, save for the elevator.

"So, I know I shouldn't be bringing this up, but…"

Every head in the room snapped towards the Ultimate DJ, who recoiled at the quickness of the reaction; to his credit, though, he didn't back down.

"What, pretty much everyone's thinking it, right? It's too familiar."

No one said anything… no one reacted much at all, really. We all knew that this was a possibility, we were told as much when we joined up, but…

Truth is, no one's ever going to be ok with the possibility of a killing game.

"Oh, lighten up, you lot!" Silver shouted, cracking a grin from ear to ear, "we don't know anything just yet, do we?"

"Ignorance isn't a virtue," the illusionist shrugged, saying nothing else.

"Besides, there's only so many of us here…" Liam picked it up, occasionally shooting glances at Rocket, who was perched on the far side of the room, looking over us peasants… or was it pheasants?

It was unreal.

There was this cold pit in my stomach, the dread of what's waiting for us on the other side of the locked door overlapping my every thought, yet…

"Hey, if we're all Foundation, how the heck do we _not_ know one another?" It's Asami that spoke up. Compared to Lucille and Seina, she's dressed fairly tame, a light red jacket with black pants – regular clothes, just like me and Evelyn.

"I can answer that," Liam cuts in, face lighting up:

"Most of you, judging from your talents, work as agents, right?"

"Non, I work as a… courier? Oui, that's the word," Lucille offers, looking intrigued.

"Me too," I add.

I don't think I'd have the stomach for actual field work, anyway…

"Fair enough," the falconer continues, "point is, it's compartmentalized. If something happens to a single cell, the others can continue more or less unaffected."

"We might've even worked together on specific assignments, yet are none the wiser for it…" that girl who arrived with Silver trailed off, finishing Liam's train of thought.

I sigh, realizing that remembering everyone's names is going to be more of a chore than I expected. What was her name again… ah, right, Evelyn… _Eeeevelyn._

Before I can go and repeat everyone's names to myself in a vain attempt to commit them to memory, however, the elevator kicked to life once again, signaling another set of people coming up.

"I'm calling it, it's going to be a trio this time," Silver offered, plopping down in Liam's lap.

The blonde falconer, to his credit, adjusted remarkably well, throwing his feet to the side and somehow managing to bend space enough to create room for the seven of us – Kenji and Seina were comfortable enough being edgy and antisocial against their chosen walls.

"…"

Wow, that was snarkier than necessary…

"Non, it will be a duet," Lucille gave her prognosis, still occasionally shooting a longing glance at me, further aggravating my already frazzled nerves. Although I feel like a piece of meat when she does it, there is a certain honesty in her advance – I find it hard to think that she's doing it just for fun and attention.

Soon enough, the elevator light dims once again, the door opening to a surprisingly tame trio of people:

"Called it!" Silver laughed, before anyone had a chance to even register who or what arrived.

"Called what? And while we're on the subject, _what_ the hell happened?" the sole woman of the group immediately replied, with a presence that immediately flat-lined the pirate's otherwise flamboyant approach.

She was clearly Japanese, judging from the faint accent and general appearance, but that was pretty much all I got from the first impression. Her bright, almost honey-gold eyes had both the shine of curiosity and the dullness of world-weariness, and her dark brown hair came down in gentle, wavy locks, just passing her shoulders.

As goofy and energetic as Mr. Silver was, this woman was composed and no-nonsense. And yet, he took it in perfect stride:

"Called _it_ , love!" he grinned, "and you're in Skypoint, where we occasionally gather for whisky and cigars, waiting for the inevitable heat death of the universe."

That last line was delivered with such a straight face that even the implacable 'White Void' raised an eyebrow at it.

"Madam, if I may…" spoke up one of the newly-arrived guys, waiting patiently for her to move aside before stepping forward:

"We've come to the conclusion that the three of us are all Future Foundation members… I'll assume the same holds true for you all?"

"Yep," Matt nodded.

"Screw this, I'll go check the door again," Kenji cut in, moving away from his spot and back towards the lonely door on the far end of the room.

Without another word, Evelyn, Asami and Matt decided to stand up and follow him there – if he had any objections, he didn't voice them.

"So it's as we feared…" the polite guy sighed, taking off his hat and revealing a head of short grey hair that completely clashed against his otherwise youthful appearance.

"Right then, we ought to introduce ourselves…"

As he spoke, I noticed the last person, a short, ratty-eyed boy, slip gingerly out of the elevator, seamlessly fading into the same spot Kenji was in mere seconds ago. Were it not for the significance of there being _three_ people, I'd completely miss the escape – the grey-haired man kept talking regardless.

"My name is **Dylan Miles**. Naturally, I work for the Future Foundation, third branch, under Kizakura."

"Hey, me too!" Matt added from across the room, only to get swatted at by Asami.

Ignoring him, the woman stepped forward, giving us a look-over before speaking, her voice firm:

"I am **Yoshinaga Hoshika.** Though it's hardly relevant now, I am, or rather _was_ , the **Ultimate Caligrapher.** "

"Pleased to meetcha!" Silver replied, apparently enjoying the quasi-rapport he's built with the woman. She paid him no mind.

"How many are here, already?"

"Fourteen, m'lady," Dylan replied, though he himself just arrived. I only just noticed the posh British accent, almost like you'd see on the sitcoms – it's kind of charming.

"You sound posh," Lucille just throws it out.

He takes it in stride, though, smiling as he speaks: "As I should. One cannot be the **Ultimate Butler** and _not_ adhere to tradition."

"Yeah, that explains it," Liam grins, motioning for the man to sit.

"Fourteen…" Hoshika trails off, glancing over to the door the other four are trying to get open.

"Hey, what's your name?" I finally ask, having managed to lock eyes with the boy that snuck in with the butler and calligrapher – sounds like the set-up to a joke…

" **Boris** ," he almost whispers, " **Roboticist.** "

It's clear that he has no intention of speaking – he looks really anxious, like it's taking all he has just to stay calm. I decide it's better not to bother him right now…

"There's going to be more," Hoshika declares, frowning, "whoever organized this Killing Game intends to take out more of us."

The room went silent.

We all thought it, of course, but this woman was the only one to bring it up so vocally. With no hint of remorse, or fear, she crossed her arms, frowning. For the moment, everyone gathered back up next to the now overcrowded lounge couch:

"We've seen it happen. We've seen our peers, now our colleagues, slaughter one another in the hopes of leaving the prison they were placed in by the Ultimate Despair…"

She looked us over, eyes lingering over Matt, Silver, and strangely enough, _White Void_.

"Don't be naïve or foolish – help will not come to us. However, we are the Future Foundation, and we've all volunteered our talents to the betterment of humanity. If there is any group of people who can stand united in a killing game, it will be us."

The way she spoke… it's almost as if she's entertained the idea of being caught in a game like this before. I haven't the slightest clue as to whether this is overall a good thing or a bad one, but before anyone can really react, the cursed elevator button lights up one more time.

"Not now, you daft thing!" Silver shouted at the elevator with surprising zeal, "I'm not done freaking out yet!"

"Yeah! I mean… c'mon, what are the odds, right?" Matt added, though he sounded like he was barely buying the idea himself.

"I wouldn't much worry," Evelyn smiled, leaning back against the wall, quite possibly the only person in the room that looked somewhat at ease, "we've got two capable vigilantes among us, and we've all survived the tragedy itself – not one of us is easy prey."

"I'm easy prey!" Silver frowned, "it's always the captain they eat first, don't you know? I'm doomed! Doomed, I say! It's Davy Jones' locker for old Silver!"

Broken from the daze by his nonsense, Asami smacked the Ultimate Pirate, who failed to dodge her, squished as he was between other people. The almost slapstick exchange seemed to be enough to pull the rest of us from our respective dazes, and I caught sight of steel expressions and determined smirks on more than a couple of faces.

"Yeah, and besides, whoever organized this didn't expect -"

The door opened.

"Who the fuck are you?"

A batch of four people, each one distinct in their own way:

A short girl with black hair, frighteningly pale skin, and bright green eyes, peering from her somewhat oversized hoodie, an extended collar hiding her mouth and nose like a makeshift scarf. She began walking over to us, then noticed Rocket, and changed direction seamlessly to observe him instead, crouching down as she did so.

She tried to wave at the bird who, true to form, didn't react in any noticeable way. Letting out a childish grunt of dissatisfaction, she instead turned to us, burying her hands in her pockets and speaking in a surprisingly calm voice:

"A Killing Game… I'll introduce myself last, then, if that's ok."

"Yeah…?" Liam shrugged, then looked back over to the elevator.

The next person to step out (or rather get pushed out, but more on that later) was a guy, this one a notably tall bloke, with a rough-looking face and shades. Shades, worn indoors. I didn't like him.

"Your observation isn't helping, **Sol** … Or maybe you're looking to make a job for yourself, provoking these people, huh?" he kept going, muttering his name and shaking the odd hand in between words.

The way he seamlessly continued his admonishment of the girl was amazing, really – whoever he was, he was one of those rare people who are so used to getting interrupted that they don't seem to lose their thread of conversation regardless of what happens.

"…Yes, **Farran**. I know I don't look American… no, it's really alright…"

"Oh, that's sweet, man! I'm American too!" Matt grinned, drawing Farran's surprisingly mellow gaze.

"That means literally nothing to me, unfortunately. I can barely remember how it is back there…"

"I don't like you, Farran," Sol concluded, then decided that standing up is too much of a bother, and sat down on the (as I'd later find out) surprisingly comfortable carpet.

"Oh? Why not? We're a **Commander** and **Criminologist**. The two of us should be the best of friends."

The sarcasm was laid on fairly thick, which prompted a giggle from both Lucille and Silver, neither of whom showed any trace of the worry we all had a mere minute ago. Both were shot stern looks, however, from Hoshika and me, respectively.

"You know, I don't think they're reacting to that bombshell you dropped just now…" the other boy of the quartet spoke up, stepping past Farran, who still hadn't bothered to take off his shades.

He was about as tall, though way more imposing – the man was _huge_ , built like a wall and with a harshness in his eyes that really contrasted the boyish cut of his short blonde hair. He was clad in a muscle shirt and jeans, a pair of handcuffs jangling loosely from his belt.

"I mean; you'd expect that they'd be shocked or something… This is just _flat_."

"Ok, I _like_ you," Asami immediately declared, flashing the man a smile, "no-nonsense, a guy, and you actually talk."

"Hey!" Kenji frowned, and his dissatisfaction was echoed by Liam as well.

"Oh? It's an honor, then. The name's **Amand Bretz** , though I'm more known as the **Ultimate Stuntman**."

"Dude… that totally beats _birdman_ …" Lucille smirked.

" _Falconer…"_ Liam sighed, shaking his head, "and besides, I'm way cooler than a _butler_."

"Far be it from me to challenge your position," Dylan replied, his hands neatly tucked behind his back, "I have no need to validate myself via comparison."

"Buuuurn…" Matt grinned.

"Why am I _Hagakure_ …" Liam sighed.

The last person… well, she took that concept of 'strange' we seemed to all enjoy, and _ran_.

You see, while arriving with a falcon and being a real-life pirate is charming, even funny, and things like vigilantes and butlers aren't your everyday occurrences, this girl went _all the way_.

This girl… was clad in Full-Plate armor.

"No way…" I sighed.

"Exquisite!" Lucille cheered.

"Dibs!" Silver added.

She clonked over, giving us a small bow, helmet neatly tucked underneath her arm. She spoke in a firm, powerful voice, which contrasted against her youthful face and bright orange-dyed hair.

"My name is **Christine Riese** , of the kingdom of Britain…"

"She's a knight?"

"Is that still a thing?"

" **Silence**!" she shouted, pointing accusingly at Evelyn, who was the last person to talk.

"I am…" she growled, "…the **Ultimate** …"

Then, all of a sudden, a smile.

"… **Cosplayer~!** " she finished in sing-song voice, one completely different from her 'knightly' voice.

"Oh god…"

* * *

 **Surprise? :P**

 **Also, the leader Dylan mentioned is canon. As in, Danganronpa anime that's coming out soon canon.**


	4. Bear!

**These establishing chapters are always a drag - I want the killing to start already!**

* * *

We didn't get to ogle her amazing armor much longer – the door Kenji and the others tried to get open gave off an overly loud _click_ , and slowly creaked open.

"Time to face the music, huh?" Liam nodded, standing up and raising his arm towards Rocket, who near-instantly glided over, perching on his shoulder. He gave the bird a small smile, smoothing a couple of ruffled feathers with his free hand.

"If it's the bear, don't let anything it says get to you – it's bullshit, and there's always a way out," Hoshika huffed, taking point and disappearing through the door faster than anyone could react.

"Everyone follow the leader…" Matt sighed, offering a weak smile and following suit.

One by one, the couch room grew emptier, until it was just me and Seina, or rather, Void. It's clearly no coincidence, since she comes up close the moment the last person slips out:

"Tell me, who do you trust already?"

There's no way I can answer her right away. I've just met these people; although we're in some ways kindred spirits, all Future Foundation members, I can't say that I _trust_ any of them… especially now, with the looming threat of a killing game.

I want to say that we'll hold out, but despair is a powerful thing. You think losing so much to it would give you some kind of resistance, some kind of immunity…

It's an overwhelming force - warps your view of the world and twists your mind. And it all started with one girl, the one catalyst that doused the world in despair, and gave Kamukura a lit match.

So, who do I trust?

Only myself… for now.

"We should go, Seina."

I notice her lips curling into a frown, but she says nothing, merely touching the rim of her white facemask before turning away and slipping out of the room.

Not wanting to be left alone in the now ominously empty elevator room, I slip out as well…

* * *

Two things stick out right away – the view, and _Monokuma_.

Skypoint Academy, situated in Umag, Croatia, is a brilliant concrete tower, a bright, shining monument to man's defiance against nature's rules – it overlooks the beautiful coast, bordered by blue sky and the sandstone-gold town below.

However, the view doesn't hold your attention near as well as _it_ does.

"Finally!" it cries, throwing up its paws, "any longer, and it'd be time for my hibernation!"

"Yes, we're in stitches," Farran sighed, scratching his chin "just give us the rules and disappear, you ugly thing."

"How could you possibly think the same ploy would work twice?" Evelyn wondered aloud, ponytail swishing, "I'm all in – I'll live out the rest of my life here if that's what it takes, and I'm certain that every single person here will back me up on this."

The call for unity came faster than anyone expected, so the momentary hesitance might've just been the surprise – that's what I wanted to believe, anyway. Nonetheless, to the last one, we all echoed the Ghost Hunter's sentiment, declaring that Monokuma's game will not get the better of us.

"Yeah, that's the same story I got from the first batch – remember how they held up?" it giggled, "No, it's only a matter of time until I find the right mix of pressure and motive – one of yer is gonna crack, I knows it!"

"Don't pretend to be your idol – it's pathetic," the still bored-looking Solvia spoke up, " _Junko is_ _dead_."

"She's right, it _is_ sad. You think a Monokuma doll and some isolation will break agents of the future foundation?" Amand added, crossing his arms.

Apparently unappreciative of our protesting, the bear merely shrugged, motioning to the wall, where a panel was rising to reveal a shelf stacked with… student ID tablets.

"A student at 26…" Liam sighed, palming one of the devices and scanning his thumb when so prompted, "mother would be proud…"

"Once coded to a student, those can't be re-written or hacked, and will endure _any_ abuse you put it through – including saunas," Monokuma explained.

"There's a sauna here?" 'Lady' Christine asked, eyes widening.

"There's not, that'd be stupid," Kenji frowned, taking a tablet for himself.

"Aww…" she sighed, then went about removing one of her gauntlets, lest she accidentally scratch up the screen.

"As you can see, there's a nifty **rules** tab right there, and I expect each and every one of you to get well-acquainted with them!" the bear went on, mostly ignored by everyone – only Seina and Amand glared at the bear, their faces otherwise blank.

Finally reaching the shelf, I take my own ID, pressing my thumb against the display and watching my name flash up in stark white font. Interestingly enough, the display language was English for me – the same didn't hold true for Hoshika or Kenji, both of whose screens I managed to steal a glances at.

There were several almost offensively colorful buttons on the display, most prominent of which were the **rules** and **profile** tabs. With nothing else to do, I too clicked the rules tab, watching as a heavily stylized list came into full view on the screen.

 **1\. The Student that kills one or more of his fellow student becomes eligible for graduation.**

 **2\. Graduation consists of a class trial whose purpose is the discovery of the killer – all students that are able to participate must do so. If the killer is not declared guilty by the end-of-trial vote, he or she has successfully graduated and can freely leave Skypoint. The rest of the class, however, will have flunked.**

 **3\. Flunked students will be punished. Students that fail to graduate will be punished.**

 **4\. Any action that prevents the headmaster of Skypoint from doing his duty can be considered grounds for punishment. This includes assaulting the headmaster and vandalizing the surveillance equipment.**

So far it's pretty much the same thing Naegi the others had to deal with, but there was still one more rule.

 **5\. Students can anonymously request special assignments from the headmaster, and in doing so acquire 'Monokuma Credit', which will provide material intended to make graduation easier.**

"This is a straight-up bribe!" Matt frowned, waving his tablet at Monokuma, "You put in a rule specifically to fuck with us, didn't you?"

"This goes way beyond mere fucking, mate…" Silver added, switching off and pocketing his ID, "this is prison-style, dropped-the-soap level of fucking."

"Where'd you get that?" Asami asked, then changed her mind, "actually, no, don't wanna know."

"And what about the windows?" Hoshika spoke up, turning to the still-present bear, "what's to stop us from trying to descend the tower from the outside?"

"…"

It stared at her without a single reaction, then slowly lowered its' paws:

"You're serious?"

"Yes."

"BWAHAHAHAHA!"

And so, the likely robotic Monokuma began rolling on the floor, laughing its' metal ass off. I caught more than a couple of looks of intense desire to punt him straight out the window.

Eventually, however, he calmed down:

"You can certainly try. I did put up a razor wire net a couple of floors below, though, to keep any clever graduates from trying to get rid of their projects that way, y'know…"

Hoshika said nothing, merely nodding and pocketing her ID as well.

"Anyway, that's all the time I've got for you today!" the bear announced, pointing to a door on the far right, "your dorms are that way, and the kitchen is on the other side. Toodles!"

Saying nothing more, the Monokuma began walking towards the corner, which quickly slid open to reveal a wall slit about the size of the mechanical bear, only to click back shut the moment the bear made its' way in.

And just like that, we were alone again.

* * *

"So, we ok on the plan?" Matt asked one last time. Boris, Amand and Kenji have already retired to their rooms, and the convenient marker lights next to their doors glowed blue, which meant 'occupied'.

"Yes, but I'll repeat it one more time for exposition's sake!" Silver laughed, then stepped next to the DJ, clearing his throat:

"Self-imposed curfew begins at midnight, which is now. It stops at 7 in the morning, which will be 7 hours from now…"

The excessive obviousness earned him a couple of dirty looks, but he carried on, ignoring them all:

"We'll have breakfast together, then separate into teams – our endgame is finding a way out of this tower."

"Without killing one another," Asami added.

"Yes, without that," Liam frowned, "Hopefully, the Future Foundation is something more than a job for everyone here…"

"AS I WAS SAYING…" Silver continued, intentionally talking over Liam and getting all eyes back on him:

"We will split into teams, then gather back up around 3PM. From that point on, your time is your own, so long as it's nothing shady or dangerous."

"Your ability to parrot someone else's words is astounding, pirate man," Lucille laughed, then nodded approvingly when Silver took her heckling in stride, repeating her comment perfectly, complete with accent.

"Alright, enough of that…" Hoshika sighed, "there's work to be done tomorrow."

Without much else said, we scattered to our rooms – convenient name plates hung below the convenient marker lights, and I wondered if there wasn't a convenient escape route hidden somewhere inside as well.

The door gives a rather secure-sounding click when it closes, and I realize that, as expected, there's no way of hearing anything from the outside – I should've heard Lucille's door closing to my right, but no such sound came, even though she turned to leave mere seconds after I did.

Alright, with no way that anyone can hear me, it's safe to break down now, right?

And yet… I don't feel like screaming. Not anymore than I usually do, anyway.

Yes, I'm trapped atop a tower in a recreation of one of the most devastating events after the tragedy itself, but it's not like I'm clueless as to what's happening. We're all Future Foundation here, and in some way that has to count.

I'm no Naegi – I know that it's only a matter of time until bodies start dropping… But I'll be damned before I just let that happen!

Only problem is… he had Kirigiri, even Togami. I got no one I can trust. Sure, Hoshika seems like she's got our best interests at heart, and we do have a pair of honest-to-god vigilantes, but despite our common ground, I've only just met these people… people who now have legitimate motivation to want me dead.

Still, I didn't decide to join up with the FF for a safe and sheltered life. I won't give in to despair.

* * *

 **With the set-up done, picking Free-Time events is now a thing!**

 **If you drop a review, feel free to pick out 2 characters. Ellie, always the trooper, will feel compelled to seek them out and spend part of the day hanging out.**

 **Hope you enjoyed the chapter!**


	5. It's Comfy

**Here's the real chapter, finally. With DR3 screwing up with subs online, and August gasping out its last scorching hot bellow, I was free to write once more!**

 **And since I was a ponce and uploaded a false chapter, inevitably halving the already meager fanbase this story would have, I will desperately try to bribe myself back into your favor by uploading another one after replacing this one!**

* * *

High-pitched beeping wakes me up just seconds before the TV screen in my room comes to life. I give the room a quick look, only now noticing the alarm clock on the night stand…

Could've sworn it wasn't there yesterday… then again, it's not like I was super-attentive, what with the minor panic attack. I basically kept repeating the mantra of 'I won't give in' to myself until I fell asleep. It sort of worked, as I'm less worried about the fact that I'm locked atop a tower than I am concerned by the fact that there's apparently a ninja alarm clock in my room.

Putting the thought aside, I focus back on the screen. Monokuma's disturbing face is front and center, as expected…

"…and I wish you a productive day in Skypoint Academy!"

Uh-huh… so just another pre-recorded message that loops every morning? Figures.

Oh, you wanted to be locked into a secure area, your struggles broadcast to the entire world? Tough luck, love, you get some god-awful tower in the Balkans, playing a budget killing game.

Frowning, I stumble over to the bathroom. It's eerily familiar, and it takes the better part of a shower for my mind to come up with the connection – it's a tile for tile copy of the one in Naegi's room, the one where Maizono…

Shuddering, I cut my shower short. I guess I'll wash my hair before I go back to bed or something.

Finding a stack of identical uniforms in my wardrobe, aside from being creepy, wasn't that surprising. Regardless, I chose to wear mostly the same clothes; orange and blue are life, though they don't especially help when you're stumbling through the more or less identical monochrome streets of every major city, trying not to be seen by the dudes with black and white masks who seemed disturbingly eager to get you closely acquainted with their vaguely phallic-shaped weaponry.

The hallway is thankfully empty, so I blunder through the lounge-like common area and make my way to the dining area. Inside, I'm faced with an ensemble of somber looks and black pits under the eyes.

"Uh… good morning?"

There's a chorus of half-hearted greetings from the others, but it's clear that lively conversation isn't going to be part of the meal's program.

"That all of us?" the DJ speaks up, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, earning a cringe from both Yoshinaga and Mai, seated next to him.

"Afraid not," Miles the butler speaks up, appearing from the kitchen as if on cue, "Mr. Silver let me know he'd round up everyone he could from the rooms before joining us."

I got busy devouring the immaculately made eggs Woodhouse (with added bacon), ignoring the stream of gloriously unhealthy grease dribbling down my chin. Feminine I am not, but at least I'm not hungry, either.

" _Bonjour_ , Ellie!" the bubbly blonde and occasional F-1 champion walked into the room, bee-lining for the space next to me, " _avez-vous bien dormi_?"

I watch her beam the world-illuminating smile she has, feeling slightly guilty that she has to wait for the process of 'napkin, wipe and clear throat':

"I've absolutely no idea what you just said, Lucille…"

She finds my ignorance worthy of a small chuckle, helping herself to a portion of our collective breakfast. Like me, she still has her racing suit on, but instead of wearing it proper, she's wearing the bottoms as she should, with the top and sleeves tied around her waist, leaving a simple white shirt with some racing sponsor's logo emblazoned across the back clearly visible.

"Did you sleep well?" she repeats, and I can't help but smile at the accented 's'. She's clearly a flirt… and I don't mind in the least.

"Yeah. Went out like a light, actually."

Of course, that's about as true as the statement that the world is covered with man-eating jam, but she doesn't need to know that…. Yet.

"I'm glad," she nods, "this is good."

"What, the eggs or the fact that she's frighteningly disconnected from our situation?"

"Sol, watch the snark," the commander yawned, apparently waiting for everyone to gather 'round for their briefing for the day.

In reply, the dark-haired girl gave him a half-hearted glare: "Do you mind, _Commander?_ "

"I do," he frowns, "being antagonistic isn't helping."

"Neither is being naïve…" she sighs, throwing up her hood.

"Woah!"

The man has a natural talent for capturing everyone's attention – the dread pirate Mr. Silver has entered the room, followed silently by a reluctant Boris who had the entire room beat for the dark bags under his eyes:

"What's this? Conflict! I'll have none of that in _my_ crew!"

"Shut up, Silver."

"Oy! Come say that to my face!"

Not hesitating for a moment, Amand stood up and sauntered over to the flamboyant individual, coming right up to his face, as was requested. He even leaned forward a bit, using his slightly more imposing frame to its fullest potential:

" _Shut up, Silver._ "

I expected fists to fly, voices to be raised. Of course, true to form, monsieur Silver wouldn't give me the petty satisfaction of seeing him as predictable. The smug bastard merely cracks a smirk, reaching out to pat the stuntman's shoulder but never quite doing it:

"You… I like you! High time we had someone with backbone around here!"

"Wow… just…. Wow."

Apparently, the sentiment was shared by most of the room.

"Right, right…" Farran sighed, "if we're done taking the piss, we might as well give the tower another once-over. Pair up, people."

* * *

 _Freetime: Asami 1_

Fortunately, I didn't have to agonize over who I'd be paired up with for long – Katozumi hand-picked me almost from the get-go, loudly stating that we'll be combing over the eerily comfortable elevator room in which we assembled on day one of our new school life.

"We're not going to find anything there, you know."

She shrugs: "I know, but there's only one way in and out, so there's little chance of the ratty dude stabbing us."

"Who, Boris?"

She raises an eyebrow: "That's his name?"

I weakly nod my head, contemplating a way to painlessly remove the empathy center from my head in preparation for the inevitable slaughter that's coming.

"Hey, think we have access to power tools in this place? I'm specifically looking for a drill…"

She frowns, making a token attempt to look the walls over for some sort of secret passage:

"That's a bit dark, coming from the girl that looked completely appalled by the idea of this being a killing game, you know?"

She has a point. It's like this morning awakened my latent snark, and it's coming back in a big way:

"Don't worry Asami, I can almost sort-of guarantee that I won't go ballistic on you."

"I know this is a shocker, but I'm not really reassured…"

We spread our time between searching the elevator room for secrets and important tidbits and lounging on the perfectly comfortable couch. As time goes on, we seem to start favoring the couch.

"…"

"Hey, can I ask you a question?"

I was halfway asleep, but her strangely lively voice brings me back. Shame, because slowly drifting away from consciousness without the aid of psychedelic drugs was a novel experience, and one I found to be a pleasant reprieve from the bleak despair horizon of my life.

Alas, all good things come to an end. Maybe that's why I'm quickly trying to think of my own life as a bad thing… maybe.

"Shoot… or don't, that's not the best phrase considering our situation."

"You're crazy, you know that?"

"Yeah, sorry."

"Anyway, about my question…"

"Go ahead. Sorry for being weird."

She gives a small sigh, kicking back and letting her legs dangle off the side of the couch. Her usual confident smirk gave way to a somewhat somber look, though she does make the effort to conceal the fact:

"So… when'd you figure out that freerunning is what you were meant to do?"

"What… I was meant to do?"

It's a weird question, but I figure I should've given up on being surprised by weird when Christine showed up… Still, the question does get me thinking.

"I guess… when I was a kid."

"How so?"

Maybe it's the surreal atmosphere of this old-world waiting room, or the extreme comfort of the couch… whatever it is, I feel an irresistible urge to open up to this girl, if only to create some kind of actual bond with a 'classmate'.

"I was a poor kid," I start, and then I don't stop:

"Dad was a boozer, the always-asleep kind. I never knew my mum, and it's not like there was anyone around to tell me what she was like. A kind neighbor, left alone by the premature death of her husband, took pity on me and kept me fed and clothed as best she could – she wasn't much better off than we were, really."

I start sitting up, thinking that telling my story while I'm flat on my back is somehow going to devalue it. Besides, talking while lying down reminds me of shrinks, and the court said I don't have to talk to any more shrinks now that I'm not setting fire to things at random anymore.

Where was I? Right…

"School starts, and it's a ways off, right? I make good time, but soon enough it's summer, and all the other kids start going to school on these beautiful bicycles."

"And you?"

"I said I'd get to school before they did," I shrug, "without a bike of my own, that is."

"Atta girl…" she smiles, pushing me down onto my back again. It's only then that I realize that she probably didn't expect me answering like this…

"What about you, Asami?"

"7th grade," she grins, and I see the light in her eyes taking her back to the very day:

"Bright lights, bright colors. I signed up just because one of the school bullies was taking part and I wanted to make sure I had no way to back out of the scrap I was promising myself ever since he scared my kid sister…"

"You have a sister?"

"Uhh…" she hesitates, then forces a smile back onto her face, " _had_."

I immediately shut up, knowing that anything I could possibly say would only make the situation worse. Being tactless can be forgiven, but being a terrible human being…

"The sparkle in her eyes when she saw me flatten that guy in the second round… I never felt more proud of myself in my life… since then, my life had to be tied to the ring somehow. Went on to compete in lightweights, was world champion for a whole year, you know?"

"That's amazing, Asami."

"Nah," she shakes her head, "I'd give up the title in a heartbeat for a chance to smack a couple more idiots that think putting on a fucking Monokuma mask makes them invincible. Working under Sakakura is bullshit most of the time, but it's paradise when we hit the streets."

"Who's that?" the name seems familiar, but…

"Head of the 6th. Policing, riot suppression and special crimes," she smirks, "I prefer the first two, of course."

"Naturally," I smile.

"That sensation, when you're decked out in riot gear, fists itchy to feel up some idiot's face…" she trails off, eyes taking on a slightly dreamy look:

"And then they sound the horn, and you rush out in unison like a Roman legion, and it's all fists and feet and broken bones for the next half hour… you don't have time to think about who and what you are – it's just the fight, and that's enough."

She closes her eyes for a moment, giving a small smile before letting it fade away as she opens them. The dreaminess is gone from her expression, a look of determination lingering.

"That's cool…"

And really, I don't know what else I can say. I'm not a fighter, at least not in the way she is…

Conversation sort of dies out after that. Nonetheless, I feel like I've grown closer with Asami; swapping childhood tales isn't something I'd usually do with a stranger, but I don't think she's that much of a stranger to me anymore…

"Guess we ought to properly check the room before turning in, huh?"

"Fuck it, there's nothing here but the broken elevators. Let's split."

* * *

 **Hope you enjoyed the chapter!**


	6. It's a Wall

**The other freetime was chosen by a online list randomizer. I legit had to do literary backflips in order to keep myself from going too deep into the character's backstory in the first freetime.**

 **Just so we're clear, I'D STILL LIKE TO HEAR WHICH FREE-TIMES YOU ARE INTERESTED IN.**

 **I can pick them well enough on my own, but that kinda defeats the point of a SYOC fic.**

* * *

"Finally!" a somewhat winded Liam exclaims, catching me on the return trip from the promenade to the elevator room. Perched on his shoulder, completely oblivious to his partner's fatigue, Rocket gives me a passing glance.

"You ought to come see this."

The floor we're on has precious few rooms, all things considered. From the elevator, you walk into what the Monokuma minimap calls the 'common area', which goes into the dining room to the left, and the corridor with our bedrooms to the right. The dining room extends into the kitchen, and past that is another corridor with a nurse's room and storage area; neither had anything more dangerous than a pair of scissors or pliers.

On the flip side, the bedroom corridor led to some kind of gaming room, with beanbag chairs strewn about, tables with everything from playing cards to _Despots and Despair_ starter sets, and one big-ass television with a selection of Towa-brand gaming consoles. Were it not painted in an almost violent pink hue and dotted with Monokuma imagery, it'd be a nice enough place to waste time when we're not looking for a way out.

The room I'm led to, however, is new to me. No surprise, since it's past a door on the back end of the storage room – the one place I didn't hang around at all. With the arrival of Liam and me, it's five of us in the small space.

"It's the way down, I'm telling you," Kenji argues, gesturing to a brick wall that sits at the bottom of a staircase. He probably has a point, considering the wall clearly doesn't belong there…

"Yes, I know," Hoshika sighs, shaking her head, "how do we get past the brickwork?"

"A workover with a sledge or pickaxe would probably do it," Dylan adds, and I only then notice that he's changed from his usual classy attire to a hoodie not unlike my own. It's another kind of weird seeing everyone drop their preferred gear for casual clothes, but I keep the opinion to myself.

"Neither of which we have."

I get past the three of them, leaving a bored-looking Solvia behind me, brushing a finger against the brickwork, only to find it relatively new. You can tell by the color; the older a brick gets, the more washed-out and dim the color looks, and the more likely it is to crumble when you try and cat leap onto a ledge – I owe quite a few scars to old brickwork, I'd know.

"It's new," I share my findings.

"Yeah, we assumed as much…" Kenji frowns, "nonetheless, it's-"

" _Monokuma credit_."

We all turn to the criminologist, but her reaction is little more than a noncommittal shrug:

"One of us does whatever it wants us to do, and in return we get a tool to get us onto the lower floor..."

"Absolutely not," Hoshika cuts her off, "playing into this copycat mastermind's hands is the last thing we should be doing."

"You would wish the wall out of existence, then?" the girl frowns, arching an eyebrow.

"No, but…"

Before she can say anything else, however, Solvia spins on her heel and starts climbing back up the stairs:

"Then there's nothing more to be said."

Her hands are tucked in her pockets before she's done speaking, and she's gone.

"…"

It's better this way. If it went any longer, the rest of us would get drawn in to pick sides, and that never ends well... Still, had it happened, I'd be more inclined to take Solvia's side – being cautious is wise, but not trusting people is going to hurt us in the long run, and I get the feeling that we're going to be in this thing for a while…

"Well, so much for that," Liam shrugs, "kinda saw it coming, though."

"Regardless, this is a discovery we ought to share with everyone," Hoshika replies, glaring at the wall.

"I'll go make sure she doesn't do anything stupid…"

I watch the vigilante clamber up the stairs and disappear much like the criminologist before him. While he's not as tall as Liam, being closer to me in height, he carries himself with a presence and confidence I perfectly missed yesterday; perhaps having his talent known allowed the change to happen?

"I don't like this," the calligrapher frowns.

"Being a squad of hideously overqualified Rapunzels?" I ask, managing to crack a grin.

"Not that…" she shakes her head, "actually, nevermind. I guess it can wait."

Liam starts walking up, pausing halfway to turn towards me, "c'mon, it's gonna get crowded down here when the news spreads."

Giving a shrug, I decide to follow after him.

* * *

 _Freetime: Liam 1_

Rocket faithfully flaps to Liam's shoulder the moment we clear the door, and he takes a moment to smile and scratch the bird's neck. The affection with which the two interact is, to be honest, something I haven't seen in a while.

Since the riots started going the way of Pitbull, scenes of genuine human kindness grew limited only the few isolated safe zones; places I don't get to see quite as much in my line of work.

Sure, here and there I'd catch sight of someone helping their friend up as they're being slowly surrounded by one of the lynch mobs that grew so fashionable lately, but even after I'd pop off a flare in their direction in vain hopes of distracting the mob, it'd usually be moments later that they just give up and keep running.

It's heartbreaking, but it's the state of the world now…

"So, you want to hang out for a bit? I don't feel like calling it a day just yet."

"Yeah, sure," I nod, "grab something to eat while we're at it?"

"Read my mind," he grins, and we start making our way to the kitchen.

It's not a long walk to the kitchen, and between the walled-up staircase, the gaming room and our own bedrooms, the entire dining area is empty. We pause for a moment near the window:

"It's a shame we're forbidden from opening the windows. Rocket could probably get help for us if I asked him to."

"We are?"

"They'd probably file it under the 'no vandalizing stuff' rule. The whole killing game format is stacked against the participants, really," he's being awful casual about the whole thing, wearing his muscle shirt and gazing at the Croatian Riviera with that look surfers and fishermen get when they observe the open sea.

"You're strangely easygoing about the matter, by the way," I observe, taking a subtle cautionary step away from the Falconer.

He rubs his chin stubble, giving me a nod to approve of my concern, but then proceeds to shoot it down immediately:

"I'm confident that the people here are essentially good people. And besides, I'm the oldest dude here, I ought to be the level-headed one, right?"

"You don't look that old," I try to console him, noting the pang of genuine worry in his voice and completely failing to address its source.

"I mean," he carries on, like he didn't even hear me, "some of us here fought crime and stuff, and I'm just covert correspondence."

He turns away from the window, leaning against the rails, then nods his head towards the left. Reacting to the prompt immediately, Rocket takes wing, perching on one of the decorative bookshelves in the room – Liam looks supremely happy with even such a simple performance.

"By the way, which division did you work with?"

I know, of course, but I don't know whether he has any reason to… then again, I get the feeling that the Foundation means more to Liam than it does to anyone else I spoke to here. I guess, if helps sets his mind at ease, I might as well share:

"Used to be 10th, but then they moved me to 1st."

"Sorry?" Liam blinked, going back to that tried and tested Canadian phrase.

"1st division, overall direction. I work as a courier."

"Uh-huh… Ok, in that case, forget I said anything. I don't want Foundation politics to ruin our professional relationship."

I grin at that: "What, you one of Munakata's boys?"

"Actually, yes."

Second division, spearheaded by the incredibly talented Munakata Kyousuke, was the skeleton that held up the entire body that was the Future Foundation – they were serious, effective, and no other division, save for maybe the sixth, hated the mobs of despair more than they did.

Naturally, this went against my initial impression of Liam, who seems laid-back and, well, cool. A typical Munakata boy is anything but cool, really; stuck up, with no capacity for enjoying what little there's left to enjoy in life, with terrible fashion sense… ok, I'm rambling now, but those dudes are definitely jive.

"You don't look the type."

"It's because I'm undercover," he smiles, "shh…"

"But no, really, why don't you ask to be reassigned?"

"I do agree with the man's outlook, Ellie. Despair _should_ be eradicated."

"Yeah, but…"

"And there lies the difference," he frowns, "the way I see it, they shouldn't get that 'but', they don't deserve it."

"Agree to disagree?" I'm basically grasping at straws at this point. If this goes any further, it's a fight. Fights are _bad_.

"Yeah, ok, but that's not gonna make the issue go away. There's an ideological war going on in the Foundation, and it's going to boil over one of these days…"

He sighs, sitting down on the floor. We're not making it to the kitchen:

"Besides, it's not like we're going to be part of that just yet, huh?"

He flicks a hand, and Rocket glides back to his shoulder. He pets the bird affectionately once more, his morose expression fading quickly.

"Sometimes I wish I was more like Rocket. When things suck, he can just spread his wings and fly wherever he wants to."

"Yeah, but… he's still a bird," I blunder, wishing I can take back my words the moment they're spoken. For some reason, I'm being a paragon of terrible social skills…

Surprisingly, he doesn't really react to my faux-pas. Instead, he merely chuckles to himself for a moment, then continues to straighten the bird's ever-messy feathers.

"You are, aren't you, buddy? You don't care about hope and despair, you're only in it for me, huh?"

Maybe that's why Liam's sticking with the second. Maybe he has a friend or a family member there, so he's sticking through it for their sake… I can't really believe that someone like him could be like the drones I usually deliver my packages to.

We don't talk much after that, really. I just silently admire the bond between the two, and through that, seem to grow just a bit closer with Liam. He's a good guy, I think, despite our apparent ideological differences.

* * *

At the end of the day, I don't think I've contributed all that much to our big escape plan.

Sure, I seem to have helped squad morale here and there, mostly by doing nothing of use and making social errors, but aside from deducing the relative age of a brick wall, I didn't do anything notable.

Can't let myself feel bad about it, though. There's more than enough things to feel bad about in this bleak, hopeless, horribly tacky tower. It's one ballroom away from being a prime area for a game of Clue, really, just with shit selection of implements one could use to bash somebody's face in…

Oh, there you are, snarky-me. Thought you'd be a goner by now.

Maybe that's my coping mechanism now. Unable to overcome the reality of my problems, I'll find refuge in deliciously snarky fantasies about bashing somebody's face in. Although it's sort of counter-productive to what I'm trying to do here – not die – I might be better served by fantasizing about puppies, or ice-cream, or rough sex.

Or maybe I can just wash my damn hair already.

* * *

 **I feel like doing one extra long chapter with 2 freetimes before the first trial drops, so I'd appreciate another round of voting.**

 **Also, the talented Little-Shy-Joker (Who contributed the character of Farran to this story) used the characters of this story for their practice, and posted the work on her DA profile - almost everyone's done in one manner or another, and I myself found the work to be lovely (I especially like her Lucille).**

 **Hope you enjoyed the chapter!**


	7. Upbeat

**Only a couple of people (literally two) clicked on the poll (Yes, there is a poll on my profile, for the freetimes. I'll reset it after each murder), but I went ahead and did the one that was in the lead so far.**

 **Also, I've never shipped OC's this hard before. It's a fun new experience!**

* * *

"…and I wish you a productive day in Skypoint Academy!"

"Go fuck yourself, Monokuma!"

Right, I'm up. That means nobody managed to stab me in the middle of the night – which is not only good, but also quality assurance for the locks here. There's also someone knocking at the door; maybe I shouldn't have jumped the gun about not getting stabbed.

Nonetheless, I open the door, only to find Dylan, a large cardboard box in hand:

"Good morning, miss Doerner. Mind if I leave this here?"

"Depends. Is it a bomb?" I ask, snickering.

"While it would be a clever way to off someone, I lack the materials to craft explosives here," he replies with no sign of sarcasm in his voice.

"They teach 'pipe bombs 101' in butler school?"

"I'm no ordinary butler, miss," he grins, dropping the box in the corner of the room. I still didn't get a straight answer, by the way:

"I noticed that aside from shampoo and towels, our bathrooms were completely empty – I got miss DuCarde to help me assemble these boxes for everyone, they should have everything a gentleman, or as the case may be, gentlewoman, might need for personal care."

"That's… nice of you."

"If there's any foul play involved, I will take full responsibility, miss," he assures me, his tone indicating I wasn't the first person who didn't trust his good intentions this morning.

"Well, thank you. I _was_ planning on getting some toothpaste anyway…"

Actually, I wasn't. With what's been going on, I completely forgot my morning routine. Not that I had much of one before this whole killing game thing began, but I feel obligated to protest the fact that I'm put in an environment that doesn't encourage the acquiring of good habits – just what kind of _educational facility_ is this, huh?

"No problem, miss. Now onto mister Millner's room…"

"Huh?"

"His real name – **Ulrick Millner** _._ "

"Hold up, his name _wasn't_ Silver?"

"Sorry for ruining the magic…" he trails off, slightly amused with my surprise.

"Son of a… eh, never mind. Thanks."

"Of course," he bows, then returns to the hallway, picking up another box and walking off to the side.

Alone once more, I lie back onto my bed, somewhat grateful that the clothes here included pajamas. Not that I'm particularly shy about my body – I'm quite proud of it, in fact – but something about Miles makes me want to be on my best behavior. Maybe that's why he's the Ultimate Butler…

Some time passes before I scrounge up the willpower to head out and get breakfast. There's still a box in front of Farran's room, but our benevolent butler's nowhere to be seen. I knock on the door:

"The door's rigged to blow, go away!"

"Miles was handing out bathroom supplies he got from the storage room – if you don't claim this box right away, I'll take it back."

"BOOM!" he shouts, slightly muffled, then pauses for a moment, only to speak once again: "See, what if I really _did_ rig the door?"

"I'd be dead," I deadpan, "You proud of yourself?"

I hear the click of the door unlocking, and a frazzled looking Farran opens the door – sunglasses on his face, as usual: "Strange, you speak like Solvia, but you're much easier on the eyes – I think I like you better."

"You two got serious problems, huh?"

"More of a gentleman's agreement," he grins, "we keep each other on our toes, to make sure we're ready if someone tries to make a move."

Huh. When he puts it that way, it kind of makes sense. He's a natural leader, and she's naturally suspicious of everyone – they wouldn't be the Ultimates they are if that wasn't the case. It's a strange match, sure, but it could work.

"So, about that box?" he asks, before I can get too much into the logic of their supposed agreement.

"Yeah, right here."

He packs it away with military precision, returning to the door quicker than I would reach the handle:

"Report in for breakfast. I'll be over in a bit, alright?"

"Yes, sir…" I sigh, rolling my eyes at the military jargon. He notices, keeping the Cheshire grin on his face before stepping back and closing the door. It clicks locked the moment it does so.

So much for good neighborly relations… then again, maybe I'm expecting too much. Putting anyone in a cage, no matter how pretty, makes them behave erratically. Half the reason Enoshima's killing game worked was because she kept their movements limited so well, after all.

We'll get better, I think. We just might beat this.

The rest of the way to the dining area is empty, and I arrive to a semi-filled room fairly quickly:

"There you are!" Lucille smiles, motioning to the empty seat next to hers: "join me for _déjeuner_?"

"Hey…" I return the smile, deciding to take her up on her offer. Only then do I notice that the table is set, but lacking any food save for bread:

"Uh, did I miss the memo about the prison-wide fasting?"

"No," the nod, the smile, " _monsieur_ Lucas wanted to make breakfast for all of us."

"Hopefully, he's not a _terrible_ chef," Christine adds, from way over on the other side of the table, and I realize I haven't seen her at all since… well, since she was wearing armor.

She's not wearing it any more, of course, instead wearing that dreadful academy uniform Monokuma left in triples in what I now assume to be everyone's wardrobes. While I wouldn't be caught dead wearing the damn thing, she looks perfectly content to rock the look, bright orange hair matching well enough with the uniform's red _ribbon-thing._

I don't know, man, I'm a runner, not a fashionista.

"Hey, didn't see you there."

"You implying I'm short?" she tilts her head, pouting, "you looking for _trouble_ , runner girl?"

"What? No, I just…"

"Just kidding!" she laughs, bringing a hand to her mouth, "should've seen the look on your face!"

"It _was_ a funny one," Lucille agrees, still chuckling. I don't see how my face can be _that_ funny…

I grumble to myself for a moment, deciding to look at the last member of our little breakfast club – the vigilante.

He seems somber as usual, and the intensity I noticed yesterday is once again present, but there's only so intense a man can be while he's waiting for breakfast. There's a trace of a smirk on his face, probably due to me falling for the cosplayer's teasing, but otherwise he seems pretty detached.

"Hey, Kenji, how'd that thing yesterday go?"

"Thing?" Christine perks up, "Mai did a _thing_? With who?"

"We're good," he replies, giving a faint nod, "nothing suspicious."

"Oh, that kind of _thing_ ," she sighs, disappointed, "c'mon, where's the prison romance?"

Lucille blushes at that, and I fail to miss it. Was she serious before? Can't be… I mean, we're stuck in this place, how could she…

"And here they are!" Matt announces, walking out of a kitchen with a _huge_ stack of pancakes on a plate. I'm actually impressed – it's been a while since I saw this much food at one place that wasn't a refugee shelter.

"Alright!" Christine cheers, and I'm only slightly inclined to join in.

There's a notable shift in attitude since yesterday, and I can't help but think the wall is to blame, or thank, I guess. People seem to be upbeat, and I'm kind of worried that it managed to surprise me this much.

"So, Lucille…" I start, but then realize there's really no way I can open the topic I want to.

" _Oui_?"

"Want to hang out later?"

"Sure!"

It's really hard for me to feel anything but genuine like for this girl, and that's what worries me. A disarming personality is no different from a loaded gun in a situation like this one, and miss DuCarde comes heavily armed.

Thus, in my infinite wisdom, I want to get the two of us alone in a room… and it's gotten weird on me already. Not a bad weird, mind, but the kind that leaves you feeling kind of hot and kind of worried about your ability to judge good from bad ideas.

Still, it should be fun.

* * *

 _Freetime: Lucille 1_

We decide to hang out in the common room, the same place we acquired our precious student ID's – those little bits of misery I have to tot around because I'd otherwise be locked out of the only bathroom I intend on using in this building.

We crash on the lipstick-red couch, looking over at the window with the scuff marks – Seina noticed that the glass was unusually scratched for that panel alone, then went off in search of something that might've caused the unfortunately cosmetic-only damage.

Lucille crosses her legs the way dudes do, leaning back and looking really satisfied about herself for some reason, while I merely sit at my side, unable to relax the way I did with Katozumi:

"So… uhm…"

"You are wondering about my flirtations, no?" she smiles. It comes so easy to her; I can't help but be jealous. Like she's not really stuck here, but flying free somewhere outside – it's both inspiring and unnerving.

"Well, yeah," I deadpan. _Forthrightness_ , a forgotten virtue.

"I am entirely honest," she laughs, stretching her arms, "if it bothers you, I will stop, _immediatement_."

"But… how can you...?"

"Think about romance at a time like this?" she continues my sentence, never once losing the amused yet kind expression.

I nod, a bit more comfortable. Just a bit, though. I'll still deny this conversation ever happened the moment it's over, though.

"But Ellie, is there anything more sacred than _amour_ , in whatever form we find it?"

She turns towards me, tucking her legs under her, there's a focus to her admittedly charming countenance that I can't help but be drawn in:

"For one's family, for one's friends, for the pretty brunette that came in the elevator, covered in confetti…"

Oh right, that happened.

"I've seen so many people find happiness in this world, even after _la tragedie_ ; it is hope, of course, but it is also the connection with someone, someone special, that drives you…" she trails off.

"At least, it is so for _moi_."

And she feels such a connection with me? For real? But… how?

Forget the fact that we barely know each other; there's the whole killing game thing, as well as the fact that she never even bothered to ask me if I'm even into women…

… and I _can't answer that!_

It's what bothers me the most! I grew up conservative, believing in the 'nuclear family' even though my own was as far detached from one as they go. I went to church, I crushed on boys… I _thought…_

"Are you alright? Is this too much? Should I leave?" she lists off, preparing to stand up. There's concern in her eyes, discomfort even.

"No!" the word escapes my mouth like a reflex. I cover my mouth immediately, trying in vain to erase the sound, but it doesn't help. Her eyes soften, and she tries to offer up a reassuring smile – it's the first time I see her failing to do so.

"Look, I just… well…"

"How about this?" she offers, seeing that I'm struggling, "I shall leave the flirting to you, only responding like a blushing damsel when the compliment is outstandingly fitting."

And just like that, the confusion and heaviness around my heart is dispelled. I'm not going to pretend like she doesn't have a way to get to me… but I'm not going to just block her off either. She's right – there's few truly precious connections in this despair-filled world, and there's no harm in seeing where this takes us, is there?

A bit of casual flirtation, until I get a better idea of what it is.

"Alright, I'm cool now."

"No you're not," she smiles, "you're a mess."

"Shh!" I hiss, "don't remind me!"

She chuckles, shaking her head. Maybe it's the French blood or something, but I really can't describe Lucille with anything other than 'pretty'. There's a light in her emerald green eyes, and it must be enchanting me, since I never-ever described anyone's eyes as _emerald_ before this, and her hair… Maybe I ought to save those fantasies for later.

"Hey, can I ask you something?" I speak up, deciding to change the topic.

"But of course!" she chirps in reply.

"I'm kind of going around asking people about their work with the Foundation, so I thought…"

" _La mission_ is not a good topic if you're trying to charm a lady, Ellie."

I _feel_ the blush, and I can tell she's enjoying every moment of it:

"But I see no reason to play coy – 12th."

"What? For real? You work under the _Great Gozu?_ "

"Is this so strange?" she tilts her head, more than a little confused, "we work…"

"Infrastructure, I know…" I laugh, "But c'mon, you see a man _like that_ , and you're hitting on _me?_ "

" _Oui_ ," she shrugs.

I might just fall for this girl. Hope save me, I might just fall.

There's no doubt that I grew a bit closer with Lucille, maybe too close for the brief time we knew each other, but I think she's worth it. Though I was flustered most of the time, she _did_ reveal quite a lot about the kind of person she is… and about the kind of person I might be.

It's scary… but also kind of exciting. I don't know… It doesn't feel wrong, and I'll trust that.

* * *

 **Author's note time:**

 **First of all, I understand your pain - not seeing _your_ character. I have it easy, since I made the protagonist, but writing over a dozen characters in a single scene is impossible without 30% of the text becoming 'x said'.**

 **I _wish_ I could've slapped plot armor on the characters I wanted to survive, but save for one who I _really_ didn't have the lack of heart to kill, everyone else's roles were assigned randomly by an online randomizer.**

 **I'm writing this for the glory of despair (of course), but also to work on my dialogue and drama skill. Please, it's your opinions I want to hear, to see how I can make this the best story I can make it.**

 **There isn't a detail in this story that's there for filler's sake. I'm being super-careful to pick my words and set up murder mysteries that are more-or-less believable and solvable.**

 **Finally, I ought to mention that the story format is classic - 5 murders, 5 trials, no nonsense aside from the freetimes, which may be just for fun, or may advance subplots.**

 **That should be it for now. Hope you enjoyed the (surprisingly quick) chapter!**


	8. First Rain

**The poll quintupled in votes - you guys are awesome!**

 **Shaggy Rower in particular deserves mention, for their remarkably consistent support might just be the reason I'm in a writing frenzy this week.**

* * *

Eventually, I'm left alone in the common room for some reason or another.

Not _exactly_ alone, because people are still passing through from time to time, but since no one seems to have any intention of staying for a chat, I'm left to my own devices. And while there isn't much to do in the common room save for watching the city below that's so oblivious to our troubles, the ever-darkening sky is an interesting sight to behold.

Thick grey clouds gather across the sky, steadily blotting out the sky until nothing but their silvery underbellies are left to be seen. It's not fifteen minutes after the sun disappears that I see the first droplets hit our panorama window.

The occasional drop becomes more and more frequent, and soon enough it's a full downpour.

Funnily enough, this weather is one of the better ones to do my job – the rain limits people's willingness to move, so whatever grim shit goes on out there is confined to the indoors. I'm just as comfortable blazing my trails in rain as I am in sunlight or snow – it's only the gloves that change.

"Oh, you're here."

I recognize the voice by the disinterested undertone immediately.

"Hey, Solvia."

She pulls a Tom Cruise and crashes next to me on the couch; uncharacteristically lively behavior for the otherwise lethargic Criminologist. She seems to be in fine form otherwise, the sunken look her eyes had yesterday now completely absent.

"So… you got a minute?"

"I got two," I shrug.

"Excellent."

* * *

 _Freetime: Solvia 1_

She stretches for a bit, taking up a good half of the couch; I considering admonishing her for it, but then recall her previous reactions. Odds are that trying to get someone like her to behave is a lost cause…

"So, what'd you want to ask me?" she begins.

"Uh… what?" isn't she the one who asked me to talk?

"No, seriously, ask whatever you'd like. Do I look shy?" she continues, straight-faced and even-voiced, as if we were having a _normal_ conversation.

Can't help but admire her persistence, though. Maybe that's why I decide to play along:

"Oh, right. I wanted to ask about how you got into this whole mess. Why would a criminologist need to work in the field?"

"A good question," she nods, "you're asking the right ones so far… How'd your talk with DuCarde go?"

Eh? But that's not what I… Why's she changing topics like that? And with that satisfied smirk on her face, like she's mocking me somehow. It's annoying.

Still, I'm not about to give her the satisfaction. I can swap topics too:

"Not much," I throw up a false smile, so false that there's no way to mistake it, "nothing you'd care for. _How'd you get into this whole mess, Solvia?_ "

Her brow curves, a look of interest briefly flashing across her face:

"Are you catching on, finally?" she smirks, "the rules changed just now, but you're so close…"

The rules? Is this a game to her?

"…"

Actually, that kind of makes sense. There's a pattern to our dialogue, I think...

"Am I?" I reply, ready to test my theory, "Because it looks to me that we're going in circles. It's annoying."

A question, two statements. If she replies…

"What would you like to know?" there's approval in her eyes, almost pride. Like my ability to puzzle out her silly little rule is some kind of achievement, "Is escape a possibility?"

Ok, so if the rules are still the same, I should reply with a pair of questions of my own… but if she replies to every question with a question, how am I supposed to get an answer? It couldn't be as simple as throwing out an answer, could it?

No, that's definitely not it.

People like Solvia… I don't think she's doing it on purpose. No, that's not a good way to phrase it; she's doing it because doing anything else would be contrary to her nature, I think.

In that case…

"Is there something I would like to ask you?" I ask, confident that this is what she wants me to ask.

"Is there?" she curves her brow again, jamming her hands into her pockets. I can see she's getting fired up by the mental gymnastics we're doing; despite the strangeness of it, I feel an intense desire to prove myself.

"Do I have the answer you're looking for?" is her next choice of question, and I find my replies coming to mind quicker and quicker:

"Did I ask my question already?" I ask, leaning towards her a bit, giving an involuntary smile, "Did I remind you to answer me?"

"Will my answer satisfy you?" the first question, "Is your question the right one?"

"Am I wrong?" I'm full-on grinning, as opposed to her still composed and somewhat bored expression, "or should I repeat myself fourteen times?"

She rolls her eyes, nodding her head: "How about half?"

"…"

"Holy hell, that was _awesome!_ How in the world did you come up with that!?" I start gushing, not even embarrassed with how intense I'm getting – with only a stubborn persistence in sticking to her rules, Corraine completely changed the way I was thinking! It's unreal!

"It's not that hard," she shrugs, the disinterested tone back in her voice now that the game is over, "but you did ok, I guess."

"Great!" I laugh; I can't believe I'm this psyched about quasi-talking to someone, "but why?"

"I wanted to know," she deadpans, then sits up a bit straighter, taking her hands from her pockets. This draws attention to how hilariously oversized her hoodie still is; I can't see her hands, and her collar is still threatening to swallow up the lower half of her face. If she wasn't intentionally keeping it low, I've no doubt that she'd be even harder to get a read on, what with the obstruction.

"Yeah, but why make me jump through hoops?" I continue, unfazed, "It's amazing, what you did, but I still don't get _why_ you did it."

She turns away from me for a moment, looking out to the still-rainy sky, letting out a slow sigh:

"We don't always get to do what we want. Sometimes hoops are all we have."

The way she says it gives me pause, the enthusiasm I had up until this point completely disappearing. There's a real longing in her look, as if her deepest desires are scrawled across the grey sky, invisible to any eyes but hers.

She keeps the melancholy look for just a bit longer, then shakes her head, closing her eyes for just a bit longer than what makes a blink:

"I want you to help me expose the killer when they strike."

I flinch at the word. For her, though, it comes so naturally that I might've ignored it, were it not delivered in such an ominous tone.

Truth be told, I've almost forgotten about the fact that this was still a killing game. Sure, I kept reminding myself how strange and dangerous the situation is, but there was no evidence of actual danger, and I didn't really feel all that threatened. Inconvenienced, sure, but up to a few seconds ago, I was somehow convinced that we were going to get through this without bloodshed.

"Don't say things like that, Solvia," I frown, fighting the urge to shudder, "you can't know that someone's going to…"

"Become a _killer?_ " she asks, this time accentuating the word further, as if her only goal is to unnerve me, "In conditions like ours, it's the only possibility."

"No!" I almost shout, "stop saying that!"

"Denial isn't going to help, Ellie," she raises her voice as well, focusing me down with a surprisingly intense gaze, "inevitably, some of us here are going to snap. It's unavoidable – the best course of action is to be prepared for any eventuality."

"Screw you!" I shout, this time for real, standing up, my heart beating at an unhealthy pace, "I don't want to hear this!"

"This is me being kind," she warns, still sitting down, "take it however you like."

"Yeah…" I shake my head, "I think I had enough of your kindness for today, thanks."

I start walking towards my room – I need some alone time.

"Suit yourself," she sighs, kicking her legs out and sprawling out across the entire length of the couch.

I gave her one last glance, then head out.

Maybe trying to get closer to someone like Sol wasn't such a good idea. People like her are often strange and hostile, and she doesn't seem much different… maybe she really _is_ noble, and is trying to help, but I don't see how being a doomsayer is helping anyone.

Then again, it isn't fair to just dismiss her like I did. The sad thing is that she's probably used to reactions like this… people as a whole tend to overreact, poorly, towards things that scare us, but which we in some way recognize as important or true.

Solvia is probably right – we're probably going to have to sentence one of our colleagues to death because they did so themselves, just like Naegi's class had to… I just don't want to think about that, though.

It might be denial, but denial is all I've got, really – as much as I've grown to like some people here, we're still strangers. Three days isn't enough to trust someone, especially in a situation like ours. Heck, I've so expertly evaded some people here that, aside from the introductions, we haven't exchanged a single word.

Or maybe she's just wrong. Ultimate Criminologist she may be, but that doesn't mean she's always right when it comes to behavior like that, right?

I really, _really_ hope she's wrong.

* * *

 **I don't like writing stoics. People like seeing them written well, but that's something I have a really hard time with.**

 **Fortunately, the application for Solvia's character left the finer points of her personality fairly open-ended, so I decided to interpret her this way.**

 **One more freetime event was promised, and I intend to keep that promise - the next update is the last one before the first trial (I wanted to merge it with this one, originally, but there was no organic way to do it, so...).**

 **Hope you enjoyed the chapter!**


	9. Investigation - First Case - Part 1

**I couldn't write up the last free time. Sorry.**

 **Between DR3's Future Arc 10th episode, and the recent DanganronpaV3 swag that was published for TGS, I needed to feel that sweet _despair_.**

 **Welcome to the Killing Game of Skypoint Academy.**

* * *

I hear someone smashing on my door before either Monokuma's announcement or the ninja alarm clock can ruin the start of my day. Though, to be honest, somebody wailing on my door probably isn't the best of news either, but beggars can't be choosers.

So, wearing nothing but my pajama bottoms and sports bra, rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I open the door:

"Oh, Ellie, come-"

It's Lucille. She looks mortified, with eyes open wide and still messed-up hair, but unlike me, she at least has most of her clothes on. She seems to notice this difference between the two of us, which I guess is what prompted the break in her panicking.

"-look…" she trails off, and I can tell the surprise of seeing me as scantily clad as I am is making it harder for her to convey the urgency of whatever she's supposed to convey. Fortunately, she's not alone in the endeavor:

"It happened," Hoshika, fully clothed and as proper as she was on day one, steps into view, a scowl on her face.

Wait, does she mean…?

"It is _atroce!_ " Lucille, continues, and I only now notice the fact that her eyes look like she's been crying – how could've I missed something like that?

I close my eyes. It's only been a matter of time, huh? I guess, in the end, Solvia was right.

Strangely enough, it doesn't feel as real as it should. A part of my mind accepts it, but this other part is content to sit in denial, thinking nothing really happened until I see it with my own eyes. It's a pitiful thought to have, but I can't really help it.

"I'll get dressed, and I'm there."

It doesn't really take long for me to get dressed, and I'm out in the hallway within a minute's time – it's long enough for both Lucille and Hoshika to clear out, however, and the only person I see is Amand:

"You're the last one," he sighs, "C'mon, it's in the common room."

I follow him down the corridor and out into said room, where everyone is waiting… everyone save for two:

"Where's Matt?" I ask, looking over the scowling faces and puffy eyes – seems like Lucille wasn't the only one crying.

"Sit down, Ellie," Farran speaks, with an undertone of authority that doesn't allow for counter-questions; I obey the moment he finishes speaking.

The common room window is in full view, and the weather outside isn't much better than the mood in here; the same grey downpour that amused me yesterday now seems oppressing. Everywhere I look, it's sullen faces and knitted brows. Our fairy tale is dead – it's real now.

It's like being thrown into cold water – a shock that crushes your breath and makes your whole body shake. It's terror, it's misery… it's despair.

Evelyn in particular looks bad, almost as if she's in pain. Her eyes are closed shut, and she's barely making the effort to keep her head up. Her clothes look frazzled, like she's slept in them, and her hair isn't much better off.

"…"

" _Matt Lucas is dead_ ," Farran begins, and Christine starts sobbing again, "and in all likelihood, so is Boris."

"You don't even know his last name?" I snap, surprised with the coldness in his voice – he's definitely military, but I didn't think he could be _this_ cold.

He sighs, shaking his head, "I don't. Now let me finish, please."

I say nothing more. How could they just… No, I mustn't blame them. It was his own choice to stay distant, and this is merely a consequence of that choice…

"I made sure not enough of us saw the body, but I don't think the mastermind is going to let us skirt this rule much longer – I need teams."

"I'm on the body," Asami states immediately, crossing her arms, "I remember how these worked in the first killing game, and I don't think I'll be of much use anywhere else."

"Me too," Amand adds, in a much more subdued voice.

"That's two," the commander nods, "and for the Roboticist?"

"Silver and I are going to watch him."

A few heads turn to Hoshika, Silver's most of all:

"We are?"

"Yes," she shoots him a glance, and I see the desire to contradict her fizzle out in his eyes; he nods his head in resignation.

"Right then," Solvia stands up, walking towards the hallway door, "Farran, Ellie, let's go trigger the announcement."

* * *

 **INVESTIGATION**

* * *

Matt's door is on the far side of the hallway, building-side, and furthest away from the common room. Right now, it's being held open by a shoe; unsurprisingly, it's only now that I notice that Farran is missing exactly one such shoe from his left foot.

"Before we go inside, you should know that I didn't mess with a single thing, ok? His ID card was tucked in his shoe, and it took me an embarrassingly long time to find it."

"Wait, what?" I don't get it; he was locked inside?

"Long story," he frowns. We open the door.

"…"

I don't hear Monokuma's pre-recorded body discovery announcement. All my attention is focused on the body.

Matt Lucas, the Ultimate DJ, the first person I spoke to here, is lying in his bed. His eyes are still open, his face the picture of shock and surprise. That's not what sets my stomach churning, though.

There's so much blood – his entire chest, the bed beneath him… even the floor. The wound is right where his heart is, and that's probably why there's…just… _so much…_

I kneel down, head spinning. My retching days are long past me, but to see a display this gruesome up close… god, I don't know if I can handle this. The mere thought that the person that did this is standing somewhere outside the door…

"Hmm… alright, now that that's over with, I need you to pester the bear into unlocking the Roboticist's room as well," Solvia speaks up.

"What, again? It was embarrassing enough the first time."

"He wanted a killing, and it happened. Get him to open the door."

I look up just in time to see Farran, clad in his white shirt, shades and single shoe, walk out the door. I wobble to my feet, backing up against the wall and taking a moment to catch my breath.

Solvia looks at the body a bit longer, then turns to me:

"You are my Watson," she declares, pulling down her high collar and producing a pair of white latex gloves from her pockets:

"Remember my hypothesis. Their strengths, their weaknesses, all of it. I need you to hold all my pieces while I assemble this puzzle," she continues, then pulls her hood down, revealing all of her raven-black hair.

Taking a deep breath, I finally center myself, trying my best to ignore the stench of blood:

"Right… yeah… Ok, let's do this."

It's cool. I can do Watson, I think. I'm no war vet and trauma surgeon, but I think I can kick side well enough. It's up to us to find this killer, and the road to the truth starts here…

She squats down next to the spot of blood on the floor, scrutinizing it for almost an entire minute – the moment she's done, she turns to me, a mildly _amused_ look on her face:

"We have a body, we have…" she trails off, then pulls her ID out and makes a couple of clicks, "…the cause of death, and we have the crime scene itself. Something's missing."

"Cause of death? You can get the Monokuma file on your ID?"

"Yes. Unsurprisingly, it's loss of blood," she shrugs, "and our missing element you didn't notice, by the way, is the murder weapon."

Yeah, well, it might as well be on mars; it's not in plain view, and we only barely started searching. I'm not an esper, damn it.

"He died recently," she continues, "I still can't close his eyes easily, so it must've been around the halfway point of the night, adds up with Farran's story…"

"What story?"

"However… look at the splatter here."

I sigh, then step closer and notice that, in fact, there _is_ something strange about the splatter – it cuts away, as if it was obstructed.

"So, ideas?" she asks, green eyes glistening with interest.

"Uhm…"

The shape is vaguely circular, and really close to the bed… so, whoever stabbed Matt must've done so close enough that their shoes got sprayed with blood…

"Maybe… slippers?" I guess, shrugging.

She nods, approval in her eyes once again, "check the bin."

I stand up and walk over to the trash bin, and, lo and behold, there's a pair of slippers in there, tips covered in slowly drying blood. I put them back into the bin immediately:

"How'd you…"

"And if they got their footwear, which, by the way is their own, for Lucas' pair are over there," she motions across the room, next to the shattered remains of a vase lying on the floor, "soaked in blood, then the same must apply for their clothes as well."

I nod. No matter how you look at it, if you stab someone in the heart, things get messy. Unless you're an Ultimate Assassin or something… But clothes…

"I don't get it, Solvia. How do his clothes have anything to do with who did it?"

"All the pieces will add up," she frowns, standing up and walking over to the wardrobe. With a heave, she throws it open, revealing a row of neatly folded uniforms hanging from coat hangers…

"Oh…"

Of course, the last uniform is smaller than the others. It's also covered in blood.

"What?" I frown, unable to make sense of Solvia's _pieces_ , "that doesn't make sense, why would they…"

"You can't walk through the hallway in a bloodied uniform and stay unnoticed," she replies, her voice disinterested now that she's found her clue.

"But _why_ would they change their clothes?" I ask, unsure whether I can frown any harder.

She doesn't reply, but merely scans the room one last time. After a while, she shakes her head in disappointment and approaches the shattered vase on the floor:

"And here it is, the bait that lured the commander," she smirks, prodding at the jagged edges.

"Bait?"

"He'll explain later," she brushes me off, then stands up and briefly checks the bathroom, returning within a minute's time.

"Let's go."

It's not that I don't trust Sol... well, actually, that's exactly what it is. If Kirigiri had actually been a killer in the original killing game, odds are that she wouldn't be heading the 14th division now… Point is, detectives are inherently untrustworthy, despite their profession dealing with the truth.

Despite that, however, all I find in the bathroom is a fresh tube of toothpaste and some slightly moist towels – nothing suspicious in any way.

"Alright, I guess it's time to move on to Boris…"

* * *

We step into the hallway, and are immediately replaced in Matt's room by Katozumi and Bretz, who seem to have volunteered to watch over the room in the hopes of finding anything we've missed.

"You sure we found everything there?" I wonder aloud, noting that aside from the two of us, the only people in the hallway are Evelyn, who still looks like hell, and Farran, who has finally reclaimed his damn shoe.

"Probably," she shrugs, "enough to slam our killer, anyway."

"Ok, but can you _finally_ tell me what the hell happened to Farran?"

The man himself gives an over-exaggerated sigh, shaking his head:

"They got me, ok? I heard the vase shatter and I went to check. I saw the body, went to make sure, and the door locked behind me."

"How'd you hear it? The rooms are soundproof…"

"Ok, where do I begin…" he scratches his chin, "well, I keep watch during the night."

So that's why he's been so hard to get hold of... he's probably been sleeping for most of the afternoon.

"I had Silver and ms. Yoshinaga join me for the watch, but last night it was just me. I took a piss break, five minutes, and not long after that, there's the crash."

He pauses, making a face like he's trying to recall everything in as perfect sequence as he can:

"I rush over, notice that Matt's door signal reads _unlocked_ _._ The door's slightly ajar, and I see the vase… I also see the body."

"And?"

"Well, I get close, to check whether he's really alive or not, careful to make sure he can't get the jump on me if it's just one big bait, only to hear the door click locked behind me," he finishes, puffing his cheeks in annoyance.

"Uh-huh…"

So, according to Farran, he's been trapped in Matt's room, when he's supposed to be watching the hallway. This is all news to me, but Sol quickly confirms his story, as do the aforementioned pirate and calligrapher, when they're called in to do so.

But what puzzles me is how the killer even got into the room. The rules state that only the person whose room it is can access it with their ID; the room should've been locked. Unless the killer can walk through walls, or slip through the door somehow while the occupant is mid-entering, there should be no way they can get in…

"Ouch!"

I turn to Silver, who was halfway past the corridor:

"What now?"

He raises his hand, only to show the shallow cut along the side of his palm:

"Glass, in the carpet. I tied my shoelaces in the hallway, and all I got was this stupid cut."

Solvia sets off immediately, crouching down where Silver was standing, completely ignoring his light bleeding. She rummages through the thick carpet for a couple of seconds, then picks up a moderately large bit of glass:

"There's not much… maybe enough for an improvised weapon, though. You get the door open yet?"

The commander nods, crossing his arms. Evelyn, who's still in the hallway as well, closes her eyes and lowers her head.

"Hey, are you alright?"

She doesn't answer, still keeping her eyes closed and head low. After a few moments, though, she slowly raises her head and meets my eyes. A bead of sweat is slowly rolling down the side of her forehead:

"Yeah… headache... I don't usually get them, so I just…"

I decide against interrupting her. She looks like she's in real pain; it's probably a migraine of some sort…

"I passed through the hallway during the night," she says, rubbing the sides of her head, trying to lessen the pain, "I went to the storage room to find some medicine, but couldn't find any... _Ugh!_ "

She's cringing now, and even Solvia looks a bit concerned. Still, we don't interfere, waiting for her to finish with what she started:

"Farran… he wasn't there… both times. Twenty minutes apart, at least."

She turns on her heel and starts walking towards her room, hands still rubbing the sides of her head:

"Sorry, I can't take this anymore. Wake me up when it's over."

And that was it. That was Evelyn's testimony. It's unfortunate that she's in pain, but I can't really help her right now. The best thing I can do is help Sol get to the bottom of this crime…

Farran flashes his ID to Boris' door, and…

"…"

This time, the desire to hurl isn't as strong. In some messed up macabre way, this is a good thing, because otherwise I don't think I could've stopped.

Where Matt had one clean stab to the heart, Boris… well, poor Boris is more stab wound than person at this point. Whoever did this is a fucking animal… there's blood everywhere, and the look on the young man's face is just… I thought I've seen the worst this world can offer, but there it is – proof I was wrong.

Pools of the red liquid are gathered on the bed and the floor surrounding it. It's so much that I can't believe that it all came from… oh, poor kid. No one deserves to be butchered like this, whatever the reason.

I feel my hands shaking, and I look at them in disbelief – this is affecting me on a level beyond reason. This is… is this also despair? This fear? This rage? This crushing need to destroy whoever carries a heart dark enough to commit an atrocity like this…

We need to stop this killer, whatever the cost.

* * *

 **As you can tell, relevant truth bullets are marked by simple underlines.**

 **I'm not a fan of the messy over-the-top style many SYOC stories use; I have faith that you, the reader, can follow the plot without me FLASHING GIANT CAPS at you for every relevant bit of information.**

 **Also, I can't quite get everyone involved (even Naegi ran with Kyoko and Togami only, after all) right away, but no one will be left behind.**

 **Any guesses as to what happened so far?**

 **Hope you enjoyed the chapter.**


	10. Investigation - First Case - Part 2

**Damn... Despair Arc episode 10 is heartbreaking.**

* * *

"Christ…" Farran trails off, adjusting his shades, "they're fucking animals."

My thoughts exactly…

"They're _criminals_ ," Solvia corrects him, taking a deep breath and moving in to inspect what's left of the body. She doesn't hesitate for a second, and before either of us can really say anything, her fingers are trailing the edges of the blood spatter.

"Right, so… I guess I'll leave you to it, then…" the commander sighs, then leaves the room.

Stomach still churning, I start looking over the room. Aside from the vicious display on the bed, the rest of the actual room looks relatively untouched…

"Hey, wait a minute…"

Some more glass shards. Just like last time, they're long, jagged bits that could possibly be used to stab someone.

"Sol, I found these-"

"More glass," she interrupts, "I know. Also, the Monokuma file didn't change for this one, either."

Damn, she doesn't have to be so rude about it. I'm nervous too, but you don't see me stirring up more trouble by being abrasive…

Without waiting for further instruction, I walk over to the bathroom.

To be honest, I expected it to be another dead end… this wasn't that. Between the residue in the shower and the shattered mirror, I'm almost certain that the killer made a stop here. The glass I can assume came from the mirror, but I've no clue why there would be traces of blood in the shower…

"Get over here, runner."

With a frown, I peek out the bathroom door, seeing Sol on the far side of the room, almost up against the body itself:

"You're dragging your feet," she frowns, "c'mon."

Huffing in annoyance, I approach the bloody mess, then look to the direction she's indicating – the door:

"See that?"

"No," I'm honest in my reply.

"Of course you don't," she sighs, and I see her hand reflexively tugging at her collar, "just… look at the carpet."

I do so, and after a couple of seconds, conclude that she's onto something. Something about it is off, not the way you'd expect it to be, but it seems to be so minute a difference that I can't possibly…

"Aha!" I cry, the realization hitting me like a brick, "it's been moved! Someone moved the carpet!"

"Exactly," she smirks, and her hands settle down once again, "though that tells me nothing about the killer I didn't already know."

"Where'd you learn all this stuff?" I ask.

"I had…" she trails off, "…training," then, a pause, "everything there's to know about crime, I know in _some_ capacity, honestly."

Anything to help stop this killer… to think that savagery like this is in the tower…

I thought that the masses were the worst it's going to get, but that just shows how unfamiliar I am with despair. I'm always on the sidelines, watching other people suffer as I make my rounds, delivering messages that do barely anything to stem the tide. The real despair, the real violence is always more personal – it's the result of direct confrontation, not just a side-effect of a wave of violence and chaos.

The mobs were bad, leaving broken people behind, but at least they just wanted death. Whoever this killer is… they wanted to send a message.

"You're free to go, Doerner," Solvia announces, "I assume Silver and Yoshinaga are coming in, and I'll need their help to deal with the body."

"Yeah, sure…"

* * *

I stumble past the two of them in the hallway, not even bothering to caution them on the harsh scene that awaits them. The relief of not having to be in the same room as the body easily overpowers any concern for etiquette, and soon enough, I'm in the common room, along with most everyone else.

"Finally," It's Liam that speaks up, Rocket strangely absent, "what's the news?"

"Huh?"

"They didn't really let us snoop around the hallway, ok?" he clarifies, "we checked everything else though, and you might want to talk to Seina, Christine and Kenji about what they found…"

He frowns: "The rest of us came up with jack squat."

"Ok…"

I sit down for a moment, needing a couple of seconds to get my bearings. Now that the rush of investigation is wearing off, the horror of the situation comes in at full force. The once somber faces around me are now pictures of hatred, rage and distrust, with just the soft-hearted cosplayer still bawling.

The shaky camaraderie we had going on is nowhere to be seen, with leers and dirty looks dominating the room. I consider just shutting down for the rest of the investigation, like poor Evelyn; it'd be so much easier, just close my eyes until all the horrible is gone, but…

Naegi didn't shut down, not even when his friend was dead in his bathroom. I can't give up, not when the bad times only just started.

With renewed determination in my step, I walk over to the now unmasked Seina. In fact, aside from her gloves and coat, she's dressed fairly plainly – it's jarring, but I get over it quickly:

"Void, I'd like a word."

She raises an eyebrow at my use of her moniker, then gives a small nod, motioning for the two of us to step into the dining area.

Once inside, she turns to me and speaks in a level voice, though her features are showing more anger than calm:

"Although I've failed to predict the killer…" she pauses, narrowing her eyes for a bit, "… I did find something of note."

She walks me over to the kitchen, pointing to the knives hanging on the wall:

"That one, on the far left."

I pick the knife up, giving it a brief inspection. At first glance, there's nothing special about it. Sure enough, a knife matches the wounds I saw well enough, but then again, anything with a sharp edge could do that…

"I don't…"

"The space between the blade and the handle," she clarifies, crossing her arms, "note the color."

I do as instructed, and true enough, there's something in the small space between handle and blade. Such a space wouldn't even exist if this tower didn't use these cheap-ass knives, but right now I'm thankful – the thin red line with the faint scent can't be mistaken for anything else.

"You found the murder weapon..."

She gives a nod, then fixes me with a surprisingly intense look:

"Tell me, who do you trust now? Do you trust the criminologist? The commander?"

I reel back, her sudden aggression catching me off guard. Do I trust them? I don't know… I know I trust the evidence, and I know that, together, we can find out the truth of what happened. It's just prudence on their part to take control of the investigation like this…. Right?

"Don't think for a second that this is a battle of hope and despair," she explains, "this is a battle we must fight with our intellects as swords and our mutual trust as shields."

The part about such a shield being useless if you trust the wrong people goes unsaid, but I understand it all the same.

Still, her discovery reveals a worrying detail; the killer had time to reach the kitchen, in order to get rid of their hastily cleaned weapon. And if they can walk through locked doors, which is the only explanation I have so far, they basically had free reign of the floor for the entirety of the night after Evelyn returned to her room…

"I'll… keep that in mind, ok?"

She shakes her head: "It's your call to make – I just want to caution you."

"Why me, though?"

"You don't see it, do you?" she sighs, "You think it's just common courtesy, maybe even duty…"

"What? What am I doing?"

"Later," she declares, and I can see it in her eerie red eyes that this isn't a matter of debate anymore.

Realizing that I won't get anything else out of her for the time being, I go back to the common room, making a beeline for the other vigilante in our group. Unlike most everyone else, he looks well-kept and rested, which is strange.

As I approach, he's quick to puzzle out my intent:

"Falconer's right," he confirms, "I _did_ notice something."

"I'm right here," I shrug, "figure _someone_ has to keep track of all this, right?"

"You don't have a motive," he states, narrowing his good eye for a moment when I nod in confirmation, "and I witnessed the one event that might qualify."

"Do tell."

He goes on to detail a brief encounter between Amand, Boris, Matt, Christine and himself. Supposedly, Amand, who's 8th, got into an argument with Christine, who's 4th division for some reason – the enmity between the divisions got them into a shouting match, which Boris and Matt, who both reminded people they're with the 3rd, managed to break up.

"Also… his last name is **Petrov,** " he finishes, the confrontational look in his eye relaxing, "judging by your reaction earlier, I think you'd want to know that."

"Thank you…" I mutter, feeling tears coming to my eyes, "I'll just… yeah."

I spend the next few minutes crying and praying to the seven heavens that Kenji isn't the one who did this. Although merely a gesture, that piece of information _means something_.

Boris, who we barely knew, didn't die nameless. If nothing else, I'll carry his name in my heart until the day I die – it's the least I can do. I can only hope that, should such a fate befall me, someone will survive to carry on what little I have to call a legacy.

That's the worst part. They're dehumanizing us, turning us into _foundation members, killers, victims, survivors…_

Each and every person here… they're exactly that, a person. An entire life, a devotion to a cause that's bigger than they are, whatever their reasoning for that devotion – in some way, we're all good people, but this environment is bringing out the monsters we'd never show to the world otherwise.

I want to survive, to find a way to beat this mastermind, to prove that the will of the kind and selfless ultimately can't be broken. I have to survive…

"Hey… Ellie?"

It's Christine, eyes puffy and cheeks red. She's a mess, far worse than anyone else, save Evelyn of course.

"Hey, what's up?" I try to appear calm and non-threatening, but I know I'll bugger it sooner or later – my social grace was already proven in this damn place.

"I can confirm it – there's no way you can hear anything from the rooms. Matt's room is right across mine and…and…"

"Hey, it's not your fault, ok?" I try and soothe her, but there's no point to it. All she has are dry sobs now, but nonetheless she suffers through.

Before I can continue, however, the screens flash to life, _Monokuma_ :

"I think that was more than enough time for your snooping!" it declares, seated on a familiar-looking throne, "Isn't life just so much easier when everyone already knows the rules? Get your asses to the elevator room; we're having a class trial!" it finishes on a high note, and the screens go silent once more.

Most of us immediately turn to the door of the elevator room, and I can feel the atmosphere in the room change from anger to dread within seconds. It's not long before we're all assembled in the elevator room, waiting.

"Are we going to be okay?" I hear a whisper, recognizing the voice, "you found _la prevue_ , right Ellie?"

I don't know.

There's a hissing noise, and then the wall, or what we assumed to be a wall, falls over to reveal another elevator door, this one twice the size of the one we arrived in. Unsurprisingly, the new one is decorated with Monokuma's hideously grinning face, staring at us in dumb silence.

Needless to say, groans are among the more subdued reactions.

"Relax," Silver adds, close enough to overhear, "I _promise_ everything is going to be just fine," he continues, then, as an afterthought, " _savvy_?"

I don't know. I still don't know.

"I think we're going all the way to the basement…" Asami notices. Judging from the length of the elevator ride, she's probably right, but… I just _don't know_.

There's no clear motive, no clear suspect… we're missing a large chunk of the story, and if I mess up the pieces we've gathered, all hope of catching the culprit will be lost…

In my mind, I go over the evidence one more time. This knowledge holds the secret of what happened last night - I just have to be careful, and shatter the deception and falsehood that arises during a class trial. To protect everyone, I _will_ condemn the killer - this I swear.

* * *

 **Truth Bullets:**

 **-Monokuma File**

 _Conveniently vague as ever, the Monokuma file lists only cause of death – loss of blood due to stab wounds to the chest area. This applies to both victims._

 **-Suspected Time of Death**

 _Solvia's creepy knowledge of rigor mortis puts the time of death at some point beyond 2:30, the middle of the night._

 **-Bloody Slippers**

 _A pair of male slippers. The front end was covered in dry blood. Supposedly, every guy in the tower has such a pair… without the blood, though._

 **-Bloody Uniform**

 _A smaller uniform, hidden away among the larger ones. It too, is covered in blood._

 **-Shattered Vase**

 _The decorative vase in Matt's room didn't survive – it's shattered remains are scattered at the foot of the shelf, just past the door._

 **-Farran's Report**

 _Farran claims to have kept a night watch, with only a short break. Around the middle of the night, he heard a sound of something breaking coming from Matt's room._

 **-Unlocked Door**

 _Matt's door read 'unlocked' in the morning. Farran reports it has done so in the night as well._

 **-Glass in the Hallway**

 _Long shards of glass, scattered in the hallway, around Lucille's room._

 **-Evelyn's Report**

 _Evelyn's migraine forced her to leave her room in the middle of the night. She reports Farran being absent, but didn't say anything about Matt's door, which should've been right in her way._

 **-Glass in Boris' Room**

 _Glass similar to the one in the hallway was found in Boris' room, close to the night stand._

 **-Residue in the Shower**

 _Crimson residue in the shower. It's blood. The killer washed blood off of something in the shower, something quite large, judging from the size of the residue._

 **-Shattered Mirror**

 _The mirror in Boris' room is in pieces. The broken shards are scattered all across the bathroom. They're a good match for the shards we found elsewhere._

 **-Moved Carpet**

 _The carpet in Boris' room was moved. That's it, we can't really tell why._

 **-Washed Murder Weapon**

 _One of the kitchen knives has traces of blood between the blade and the handle. It's doubtful that that very knife isn't the murder weapon._

 **-Cross-Division Argument**

 _Kenji reports having broken up an argument between Amand and Christine – he states it's the only thing that could be the motive, considering that it happened on the exact day before the murder._

 **-Christine's Report**

 _Christine confirmed what we suspected – the rooms are soundproof, and there's no way to hear anything from the outside._

* * *

 **That's it for the investigation. Now that it's all laid out (trial surprises aside), can you at least pinpoint who _didn't_ do it?**

 **To be honest, this is the least inspired murder of the lot of them, mostly because it's less about the mystery and more about the way it's going to affect the characters. Still, I tried not to jump into my own mouth _too many_ times - I'm trying to deliver a quality story, after all.**

 **Next up is the first class trial, where our heroes' hopes and intellects will make the difference between life and death!**

 **Hope you enjoyed the chapter!**


	11. Class Trial - First Case - Part 1

**For those of you who somehow missed it, the kind Praegressus and I are launching a collaborative SYOC story, titled 'The Spera Dig'. If you haven't already, send up to a couple of OC's! I might get to kill them like I did Matt and Boris!**

 **Just, like I said there, don't send suicidal, gay or sue characters (again, check it out there, it'll make sense; it's not us being bigots).**

 **Anyway, back to business...**

* * *

The ride down is gut-wrenchingly quick.

We file out one after the other, arriving into a familiar-looking room. Sixteen podiums, with a throne overlooking it all. It's like walking onto the set of your favorite slasher film…

"Of course – if you're gonna be a lame copy, you should at least be the best lame copy you can be…" Liam shrugs, walking past me and finding the one with his name on it. It's strange that they're named, but that's probably to prevent us from shuffling every time…

No, no, that's wrong. Saying _every time_ like I've made peace with returning here at some point…

I step up to my own podium, finding a no doubt convenient slot for my student ID.

The moment the last of us steps on, that being a rather reluctant Christine, the lighting shifts and Monokuma appears on the throne. There's not a whole lot of emotion a robot like that can express, but smug is definitely there, and it's definitely looking smug:

"Finally! I started thinking I was gonna have to get busy cranking out a proper motive for you tools! Imagine my _delight_ when one of you decided to go on a rampage!"

"Alright, that's enough!"

Farran swings out his hand, using the distracting motion to get everyone's attention off the bear: "There's no point in wasting time – just tell us whether the same rules apply to our killing game that applied to the original one."

The bear looks a bit deflated at that: "…yeah."

"Then get out of our fucking business, and let us handle this stupid trial," he finishes, voice echoing.

"Fine!" it huffs, "If I knew you Foundation kids would be this much trouble, I would've made talking back to your headmaster punishable by death!"

"Then why don't you?"

I turn to Solvia, eyes wide, unable to comprehend why she'd ask something like that.

"Huh?" it reels back, over-exaggerating surprise, "you _want_ me to eradicate you all?"

"It's preferable to this, yes," she crosses her arms, eyes blazing with defiance, hidden as they are between the hood and the collar.

"But… where's the fun in that?"

"Yeah," Amand cuts in, shaking his head, "let's move on – Matt and the ruskie aren't going to avenge themselves."

We give a collective nod at that. Let's at least get _some_ justice for those who died.

* * *

 **CLASS TRIAL**

* * *

"So…" Seina takes off from there, "Both the DJ and the Roboticist were killed during the night, most likely by the same perpetrator," she pauses, "there's a lot we don't know yet."

"Let's start with what we have the most information on," I reply, thinking of the one thing I'm still unclear on, "like Farran's direct involvement in the case – he saw one of the bodies hours before anyone else."

"I did," he frowns, "and that's why we had enough time to organize a proper investigation – I made sure no one else got in Lucas' room."

"He was inside all this time?" Lucille tilts her head; this is news to her, "why were you in the room with a dead body for so long?"

Farran, annoyed, pinches the bridge of his nose, then heaves a sigh and begins explaining:

"I kept watch every night, since night one."

"It's the only thing I could've done, really, to make sure something like this _doesn't_ happen."

"Heck, the pirate and Yoshinaga can both confirm this."

The two give their nods of assent, but I can't help but feel that something's off.

Maybe… no, I don't think he's lying about having kept watch, but…

"So… when _did_ you get locked in?" I ask.

"What? I dunno, I didn't keep time, damn it."

I didn't want to do this, but…

"Everything you did or didn't do in that room can't be confirmed by any one of us, Farran," I explain, gripping the iron bar of my podium so hard my hands go white, "I wish that I can just take your word for it, but it isn't enough."

"For fuck's sake, Ellie, I didn't touch a thing!" he growls, "Heck, I let you and Sol do all the investigation!"

"Shifting blame isn't getting us anywhere," Kenji cuts in, "we need a factual frame of what happened during the night."

"No," Farran shakes his head, "No, I won't let this slide, give me a fucking second."

He unplugs his ID tablet from the podium, fiddling with it for a little while:

"2:13 AM, that's when I heard the crash."

"Where did you get a timeline all of a sudden?" Silver speaks up, frowning, "Why were you holding out, man?"

"The music, remember?" he adjusts his shades, "I play music to help kill time while on watch; adding up the song durations until I paused it to investigate the crashing noise gives me the time... You asked me to play that one shanty three times, you twat."

"Oh…" Silver grins, "yeah, that's right…" then, under his breath, " _Hoo-rah and up she rises…_ "

"So… you're saying that the songs you played on your ID tablet kept your time?" Hoshika continues, brow furrowed, "but what stopped you from just playing a couple of extra songs at some point?"

"Because my battery died," he frowns, "I ended up begging Monokuma to allow me to charge it on Matt's nightstand charger – I wanted to send a message to everyone asking for help."

"And I thoroughly denied it!" said bear cheers, completely unapologetic, "why charge your own, when there's a fully charged one in the dead man's shoes, right?"

I can see the commander's intense desire to tell the robot bear off, but he says nothing.

"It's a flimsy defense, but judging from the bear's willingness to divulge the information, I'd hazard the guess that Farran isn't lying," Seina speaks up, for the first time since we exchanged words in the kitchen:

"In fact, we'd be well served to ignore his presence in the story altogether – he arrived too late to help Lucas, and he was powerless to stop what was going to happen to Boris."

"Moment!" Lucille jumps, "how can you say that was the order of events?" she points an accusing finger, "is it not _possible_ that it was the other way around?"

Seina closes her eyes at that, shaking her head. It isn't long before someone hops to her defense:

"Over here," Silver's waving his bandaged hand, "cut myself in the hallway – if that glass was there before, the commander would've noticed it."

"Ah…" Lucille trails off, blushing and looking apologetically at the illusionist.

"That's all well and good… but we still don't know what happened!" Christine speaks up, and I notice that she's undone her hair, letting the otherwise cute ponytail disperse across her back, "who did it? Why'd they do it?" she lists off, eyes darting around nervously.

"Or," Solvia speaks up, "we can ask the most important question – how."

"True…" Hoshika nods, "the doors should've been locked during the night; the killer either bypassed that, or walks through walls."

"Aha!" Silver exclaims, "so they _are_ a ghost! Quick, consult with Eve!"

The girl raises her head, looking at him with bleary eyes: "…sorry?"

"Hey… you alright?" the tone shift is clear, even in his voice.

"I…" she drawls, her eyes clouded, "I don't… ugh…"

"She fainted!"

Although the statement is pointless, it doesn't make it any less true – slumping onto her podium like a ragdoll, Evelyn is out cold.

"Hey, is she…"

"Carry on, you nitwits!" Monokuma commands, "She'll be fine!"

"You can't expect us to just ignore her," Hoshika frowns, "she could be seriously ill, or maybe even…"

"Just drop it!" it shouts, "or I'll be forced to mark this as an obstruction of justice!"

Ill at ease, we wordlessly agree to put aside out concern for Evelyn, who, now that she's out, finally looks untroubled. Whatever was done to her, it must be a cruel person indeed to put her through that much needless pain.

"The point mister Silver raised still stands," Dylan observes, narrowing his eyes, "the killer shouldn't have been able to get though the locked doors."

"No, the door was decidedly unlocked when I was lured in – they were inside before I was," Farran adds.

"Ellie, it's time you did what I asked you to."

Solvia locks eyes with me, and I see her bringing her collar just a bit higher, obscuring everything save for her eyes, focused and unyielding:

"The pieces are all there – I want to see you put them together!"

* * *

 **=Rebuttal Showdown! =**

* * *

 **Solvia:** "It's the middle of the night, and I know that the commander is watching the hallway…"

 **Solvia:** "This will not deter me from my grim intent, however, for I've a trump card – I can make it appear so that I've walked through a locked door."

 **Sovlia:** "My misdirection is calculated and planned, executed perfectly. No one will suspect a thing…"

I frown, at first unable to discern the supposed hint in her monologue.

 **Ellie:** "What you're saying is that the killer made it look like the door was unlocked?"

That would be impossible, though. Monokuma's rules are strict – if there was any shenanigans, it'd be of the sort he'd approve of, maybe even sponsor…

 **Ellie:** "…"

That's it! The _trump card_ **was** sponsored! Rule 5!

 **Ellie: "** No! You couldn't have possibly gotten in without a trick, a hack, something that works with the rules of the game… the killer used the rule the original killing game didn't have!"

It's gasps and raised eyebrows across the board, and I fight the urge to slap myself for not catching it sooner – of course the killer could've walked through a locked door, all they'd need is…

" **A skeleton key,** " I concluded. Sol nodded in approval.

"Aww…" Monokuma sighed, making an overdramatic gesture of disappointment, "they figured it out…"

"Damn straight!" Silver cheers, "Way to go, lass!"

"You're being strangely forthcoming with information," Seina frowns, running fingers across her shirt's front pocket, "confirming the commander's story, and now with this skeleton key…"

"Why wouldn't I?" the bear tilts its head, "the less time you spent sweating the small stuff, the faster we get to seeing you fry one of your own in the name of justice! That, or I get to laugh as the machineguns mow the lot of you down for flunking…"

There's a brief pause after that, with most everyone trying to steel themselves for the inevitable voting and execution. It's a monstrous decision we'll have to make, but it's the only way we can survive… at least until we find a way out of here, that is.

I don't know _why_ Solvia and Farran put so much faith in me, but I won't let it be ill-invested – if I'm the one who has to carry this trial, I'll do it, and then live with the consequences.

That's the only way to survive, after all. Protect everyone I can, until I no longer need to, or until I'm dead.

Forget Naegi, forget hope and despair – this is a game of survival and trust, and I'll pull every dirty trick, throw every punch, do whatever it takes to come out on top with as many of these people that I can!

I'm no optimist, but then again, I don't have to be – it's me vs them, and I won't go down easy, not when there's so many people counting on me. This trial… it won't break me – I won't let it!

* * *

 **You can probably guess by this point - what was the killer's fatal mistake, which will undeniably get them caught?**

 **The motive is impossible to guess, but if you really think about it, you'll pick up on a possible reason.**

 **Anyway, hope... no, forget hope, forget despair, I'm just happy that you stuck with the chapter!**


	12. Class Trial - First Case - Part 2

**Yo, sorry for this, Rower. I swear I know what I'm doing.**

* * *

I'm not going to hesitate for a second – the truth can't sit hidden for much longer…

"Alright… we have glass shards across the hallway, and the mirror they came from in Boris' room," I open up, looking to the faces of my classmates for some sign, something out of the ordinary that might clue me in to their motivation – nothing.

"The killer broke a mirror?" Asami repeats my question – this must've been news to her.

"Aye, that's 7 years of bad luck, there," Silver adds, tugging on his cloak/coat.

"Something else was strange in that room as well," Solvia cuts in, narrowing her eyes at me.

"What?" but then I remember, "Oh, the carpet…"

"Ehm… Sorry, but I'm having trouble following…" Lucille trails off, "what happened in that room?"

"Wait!" Silver punches his open palm, eyes wide in realization, "I got this one!"

"Do tell," Amand smirks, but then quickly defaults to his unamused expression.

"There's only one reason why someone would move the carpet – they wanted to get at the rubber lining on the bottom of the door!" the pirate exclaims.

"…"

I exchanged glances with Sol, then with Farran, only then settling on the pirate himself.

"What?" he makes a face, "Did I say something wrong?"

"We missed that bit," I sigh, shrugging, "you just saved our collective bacon."

His eyes widen a bit:

"Yes! Now you all owe me your lives! Muahaha!"

Though his stage laughter needs serious work, he's quick in mentioning how the rubber lining is what helps make the rooms soundproof, which adds up with what we knew already – there's just enough space to slip a finger or a pointy object… or a shard of mirror.

"So they used the shards as a primitive scouting tool…" Hoshika trails off, eyes intense and focused – she's out for blood, "however, since we're working off the idea that Lucas was the first one to be attacked, there'd be no need for reconnaissance like that."

"That's simply not true," Sol shakes her head, "tell them, Doerner."

I shake off the vague sense of Déjà vu, recalling the 'puzzle piece' she's referring to:

"Right, it's possible that the killer was somehow aware of the fact that Evelyn was out of her room for a while, looking for medicine to ease her migraine – checking whether she's in the hallway makes sense, since the light was already on for Farran's vigil."

"I got cut up for light recon?" Silver frowns, "A travesty!"

"Cool off, Davy!" Christine lit up, apparently sick of his interruptions, "let them talk – they obviously know what they're doing!"

Seina shakes her head at that, but says nothing; I notice, though. Although it's not the time for that now, I feel like I should've spoken to her earlier…

"Enough, both of you," Farran takes charge once more, "Ok, so the killer uses my piss break to slip into Matt's room – it's possible, I wasn't paying attention to details like damaged rubber lining on everyone's doors…" he pauses at that, and it's obvious that he isn't really thrilled to have to admit a lapse in vigilance, "and after doing away with the unfortunate guy, they set up a trap for me, to lock me in the room… only, there's a problem."

"A problem?" Lucille parrots the statement, though she gives it a questioning spin.

"Yeah – no bloodstains on the carpet aside from the bed. That was a pretty nasty stab, would probably bleed all over who did it – but there just wasn't blood leading away."

" **Excuse me,** " Kenji interrupts, "but that's not relevant right now – we still haven't mentioned anything of the motive, the one thing that will narrow our choice of possible killers."

"What the?" Farran flinches, apparently unused to insubordination, "You have the audacity -"

"No, he's got a point…" the calligrapher speaks up, backing up the vigilante, "the method can wait, we need to establish the motive."

"But we know why they did it!" Christine whines, "they did it to escape this damn tower! They're a traitor and a coward, and they didn't deserve to ever be foundation!"

"Enough!" Kenji shouts, and I realize this is the first time I've heard him raise his voice. His eyes are blazing with contempt, though it's not aimed at anyone in particular. He pushes up his glasses, then begins speaking:

"You're wrong – the motive _has_ to be the argument between you and Bretz," he explains, "something you said, or did, triggered the killing. Seeing as you're both alive, either it's something completely unconnected to either of you, or it's a poorly-executed frame job!"

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Amand squeezes the railing of the podium, and I swear I can see the metal giving way, "our fight had nothing to do with either Matt _or_ Boris!"

"Yeah!" Christine also pipes up, "and besides, you weren't there!"

"I didn't have to be," he shakes his head, "you were so loud that we heard you all the way over at the games room…"

He looks over to Silver and Seina: "Isn't that right?"

"Yes," Seina nods.

"Aye, he's telling it as it was – you lot _were_ horridly loud."

"What difference does it make?" Amand doesn't lower his voice, "aside from the two of us arguing, and those two reminding us that they're fucking _third division_ , nothing happened."

"Oh my…" Dylan lowers his eyes.

"You… you were also third division, were you not?" Lucille looks over at the butler, a softness to her eyes, "I am so sorry…"

He closes his eyes, pinching his nose: "We must find this killer – even if we are just HR personnel, they deserved better."

"I didn't hear anything!" Asami frowns, crossing her arms, "I have no idea what you're talking about!"

"Me neither," Lucille adds, more cautiously, "I recall no such thing, and the only time…"

"The empty room, right?" Asami tilts her head, "we were sparring in the empty room, the one across the storage room – we didn't hear a damn thing!"

"You were sparring?" Silver raises an eyebrow.

"Kinda?" the boxer trails off, "I mean, she can't punch worth shit, but…"

"Hey!"

"What? I said that, those exact words, to your face, remember?"

Lucille blushes, hard, looking away from Katozumi, briefly locking eyes with me. For the briefest moment I think I see an invite to intervene on her behalf, but then she takes a breath to collect herself, and I detect concern instead – concern for me, actually… wow, she really wasn't messing around…

"So… we're clear on you two – even though I don't buy your sparring story for a second, we all know how collaborations in a killing game end," it's Liam who speaks up, though I wish he didn't.

The image of fire flashes in my mind, and I shudder, noting a similar reaction in most of the others – Solvia didn't even flinch, Farran, Seina and Kenji kept their cool, as did Asami and Dylan, though I think that's from the anger they're both struggling to hide…

"Eve, Farran, Asami, Lucy… they're in the clear, right?" Silver lists off, counting on his fingers, completely ignoring the

"Also Ellie, Hoshika, Christine, Seina and myself," Solvia added a hint of amusement in her eyes.

"Ok, first, that's sexist," Liam sighs, "second, _why?_ "

"The bloody uniform in the wardrobe– it not only answers the commander's puzzle; it undoubtedly proves that our perpetrator is a male."

"Unless anyone was careless enough to let someone else into their rooms for an extended period of time, that is," Kenji adds, frowning.

Of all of us here, he seems the angriest about the whole thing, which kind of makes sense. If he's the Ultimate Vigilante, he must feel like protecting us was his job, just like Seina said she does…

But… what if that's just a trick? I mean, Kenji is a guy, and… wait, he _can't_ be the killer – the uniform was  smaller than the others. It couldn't be his; his bulk, although minor compared to Amand's, should still be enough to make wearing the smaller uniform uncomfortable and inappropriate… which, when I think about it, also eliminates...

"Oh…"

"You've pieced it together, haven't you?" Solvia speaks up, and for the moment, we're the only ones in the room:

"The killer removed any possibility of bloody tracks by undressing in Lucas' room. Clever, I'll give them that – they made the amateur mistake of trying to hide it among the other uniforms, however, and that is the act that sealed their fate…" she trails off:

"I'll handle this."

I take a deep breath. I'm ready.

* * *

 **Rebuttal Showdown!**

* * *

 **Solvia:** "Mr. Silver, you're lacking an alibi – you intentionally refused to take your shift with the commander, leaving him alone."

 **Silver:** "You're dogging me now? I've got nothing to do with this, love! I was in my own damn room, sleeping like a baby! And I refused the commander, frankly, because his taste in music is utter shite!"

 **Solvia:** "There's no one that can confirm this. Am I supposed to take your word for it?"

 **Silver:** "Yes, damn it! I don't bloody care about the foundation's politics! Why the hell would I want to kill someone over them?"

 **Solvia:** "You don't care? But you're an agent, like all of us. You must care, to do anything else is…"

 **Silver:** "I'm _not_ foundation anymore, alright!?"

* * *

Silence hits the room. People exchange glances, but all eyes end up Ulrick, the Ultimate Pirate. His eyes are downcast, and this is the first time I'm seeing him wearing an expression that wasn't smug or cocky. There's a slight glaze to his eyes, the usual vibrant green now cloudy:

"I was gonna flake again, ok?" he begins:

"I flaked on the world when the tragedy struck, and I flaked again, now, just a couple of days before this whole thing…"

He takes off his coat/cloak, rolling his shoulders and shaking his head:

"I thought they'd just debrief me one last time, and then it'd be me, my crew, and the open sea again – I didn't want to have anything to do with the war on despair anymore…"

His sad expression shifts to one of anger, and his fist slams against the podium, sending out a low hum through the courtroom:

"So, **no.** I don't have a **_fucking_ ** thing to do with the argument," his eyes light up with rage, focusing on the criminologist, " _ **savvy**_ _?_ "

I'm struck speechless.

* * *

 **I thought I'd just use this first trial to make the reality of the killing game sink in, y'know.**

 **But then I thought... needs more despair.**

 **The trial resolves next chapter - you probably know who the murderer is now, but there was simply no way not to reveal it and still have the characterization I wanted.**


	13. Class Trial - First Case - Resolution

**Once again, I urge you to check out Shyjoker's _DeviantArt_ profile - it should come up by googling ' _little shy joker_ ', and it's full of her awesome artwork, some of which features characters and scenes from this very fanfic!**

 **That said, let's wrap this trial up!**

 **UPDATE/EDIT: The site's review system is on the fritz yet again - I'm aware there's like 5 reviews, but I can't actually see a single one of them, which is a bummer, considering that hearing from you is the second best thing about working on this story...**

 **Also, added a murder rundown - did you get it right?**

* * *

 _I close my eyes._

"He's not foundation!? How could you just give up!?"

"You lied to us! You looked me in the eye, and you lied!"

 _I have to focus…_

"Why'd you leave, Silver? Are you just that much of a coward?"

"Traitor!"

"I trusted you, man!"

 _Tune out the noise…_

"But…why?"

"Don't listen to him! He's a liar!"

"He's the killer!"

I have to speak up:

" **No, that's wrong!"**

"…"

My outburst dunks the room back into silence, and it's no surprise that it's the commander that recovers first. Although I've had to lay into him quite a bit this trial, I see nothing but simple curiosity on his face as he crosses his arms and speaks:

"Huh… well, why is that? Tell us…" he smirks, " _Naegi_."

"Because," I frown at the mention of the _Ultimate Hope_ , but continue nonetheless, "he has no motive to do so – he did _just_ say he's not foundation anymore, and our motive concerns exactly that."

"Back off, Doerner," Amand cuts in, his voice easily overtaking the commander's reply, "We're done with Silver when _I_ say so."

Oh, so that's how it is…

"You're going to take me on, _stuntman_?" I taunt, completely losing all interest in the class trial – it's over, I'm certain that I know who the killer is, and I can guess why they did it, too.

Sol was right – hold the pieces in your hands, and the story will tell itself. Although clever and theatrical, the killer was too bold, trying to hide the uniform in the victim's wardrobe, perchance thinking we'd be too busy freaking out about the body to do our job properly.

Then again, that too allowed for another suspect – Ulrick does fit into the smaller uniform, and although he doesn't strike me as the killing type, neither did Celeste…

But that's for later, right now, it's a verbal ass-kicking for the stuntman:

"Alright, then. Tell me what does Ulrick have to do with this murder," I demand, crossing my arms and narrowing my eyes at the loudmouth.

"He's not foundation, Doerner!" he raises his voice, "Why shouldn't I suspect someone who dropped out of the good fight? He said he overheard our argument – you did say that was the motive, right?"

"Even so, that doesn't make him guilty – especially considering that _he_ was the one to discover the glass shards in the hallway," I start my retort, "although revealing such a detail might be a good way to make himself less suspicious, Silver was also the one who puzzled out the door – no killer would reveal _that much_ of their plan to shake off suspicion…"

"And what about-"

"Besides," I cut him off, "I think that it's highly unlikely that the Ultimate _Pirate_ would go around a killing game without a weapon on him at all times… isn't that right?"

I turn to my downcast colleague, watching as he meets my gaze and slowly musters the strength to crack one of his smirks – he reaches into his cloak, pulling out a device every single one of us recognized:

"I guess you know me better than I think," he grins, holding out the cork puller for everyone to see, "picked it up the moment I saw it in the kitchen – sorry, Asami," he adds, almost as an afterthought.

"So not only are you a traitor, but you're also carrying something dangerous on you?" Amand frowns, "that's just… great."

It's obvious that he's losing steam at this point, but I've had quite enough – it's time we ended this damn trial…

"So… if it's not _monsieur_ Silver, who can it be?"

 _Has to be a boy…_

"We've cleared pretty much everyone else, right?"

 _No, there's still another._

"Not exactly, there's still one person who was involved in the motive-"

" **I agree!** " I break out.

Liam arcs an eyebrow at my outburst: "Ok… go ahead, superstar – you and Sol carried us this far, might as well let you finish it up, right?"

While I appreciate the gesture, I'd much prefer if we weren't in this situation to begin with… All this could've been avoided if they'd only…

No use crying over it now, though. The deed's done; Pandora's box is open.

"The only other person involved… is **Dylan Miles** ," I conclude.

He blinks at that, then slowly nods his head:

"I'm sorry, miss Doerner, but that's absolutely untrue," he states, never once losing composure, "Accusing me of something as undignified as murder…"

"Cut the nonsense!" I speak up, "everyone else is either exempt by the evidence, or cleared by lack of motive – you're the only one left that was involved in the incident between Christine and Amand…"

"And this makes me guilty?" he wonders aloud.

Alright, if that's how you want it…

* * *

 **=Rebuttal Showdown!=**

* * *

 **Dylan: "** You're accusing me of _killing_ two of our friends, Doerner, knowing full well that I had _absolutely no_ motive to do so. **"**

 **Ellie: "** But you did have a motive… something that happened during that confrontation drove you to act, to savage them the way you did. **"**

 **Dylan: "** Again, accusations without any solid proof – I neither had the opportunity to acquire this skeleton key you mentioned, nor the motive to attack my own colleagues. **"**

 **Ellie: "That's it! The puzzle fits!"**

"…"

"You _did_ have an opportunity, Dylan – in fact, you could've cashed in that credit on any one of us, couldn't you?"

"What?" Asami interjects, confused.

"No, hold on, I think I know what she's talking about…" Farran cuts her off in reply, handing control of the discussion back to me with elegance and efficiency:

"The boxes you were handing out… that was part of your special assignment, wasn't it?"

"I never requested any assignment…" he trails off, eyes narrowed.

"Evelyn was the unlucky one – whatever you did to earn that skeleton key, she's suffering for it!" I continue:

"As for your motive… it has to do something with the argument – you were part of it, just like Boris and Matt were!"

My lackluster argument is received about as well as I expected, with uncertain looks and confused muttering – fortunately, I'm not alone:

"It's because you're all _3_ _rd_ _Division_ ," Solvia speaks up, eyes shining with curiosity and interest:

"Isn't it?"

"I really need to ask you to stop blaming me for something I _didn't_ do, Corraine…" he hisses, fists clenched, "I'd _really_ appreciate it if you just _backed off_ and minded your _own damn business_ …"

"Catching killers _is_ my business…" she trails off.

We lock eyes for a moment, and I recall the words we exchanged:

' _I want you to help me expose the killer when they strike.'_

In the end, she was right to expect the worst… it sucks to have to admit it, but her cynicism was justified. Someone cracked, and someone died… it's Maizono all over again.

"Why'd you do it, man?" Amand speaks up, completely forgetting about his issue with Silver, "you just up and killed them, just like that?"

"You…"

He closes his eyes.

A few seconds pass, mostly silent, and then motion once more – he undoes the first pair of buttons on his shirt, brushes his immaculate hairstyle to the side, giving it a wild look. His once stoic expression is now made into one of unhidden anger:

"You want to know _why_ I did what I did, huh?"

Lucille raises a hand to her mouth, stopping herself from saying anything she'll regret later; Kenji and Seina both are glaring daggers at the Butler, while Farran and Hoshika aren't far behind. Of them all, it's Liam who has the most subdued reaction – he merely shakes his head in disapproval.

"To **protect** you, you _idiotic_ fuckwit!"

His eyes are wide open, focused on the stuntman and him alone:

"You think, just because I'm HR, that I don't care about the Foundation?" his voice is quicker and quicker, his words losing the British accent and defaulting to a surprisingly familiar eastern American one:

"I was the _only one_ who knew the truth!" he roars, "Those two… they weren't fucking third division - _I'd know_ if they were!"

"That's why you asked me…" Hoshika sighs, lowering her eyes and shaking her head, "you figured out where each of us was assigned in the foundation…"

"Hold up!" Silver cuts in, eyes wide, "You _knew_ I wasn't legit anymore! You intentionally left that bloody uniform to try and frame me… you... you bastard!"

"He's a criminal," Solvia shrugs, like that's nothing out of the ordinary, "it is in the nature of a criminal to lie, to rationalize, to avoid responsibility…"

"Damn it, I was _looking out_ for you!" Dylan slams his fist against the podium, sending a dull metal ring through the courtroom, "It's not my fault this was the only way I could handle it!"

"You could've come to us," Seina speaks up, "you could've trusted us."

"You knew… and you kept it to yourself?" Kenji also speaks up, far more outraged, "You _knew?_ "

" **Alright**!"

We all stop, turning to the suddenly lively Monokuma.

"Debating is _over_!" it announces, "pick out whoever you think done the deed, and if the vote is correct, only the blackened flunks… otherwise... Machine guns! Upupupupu…."

I grit my teeth, well aware of what's about to happen. My hands work automatically to do the vote, despite the fact that I've never done it before, it's simple enough to sign a death sentence in a sick game like this…

What he did was selfish – even if Lucas and Petrov _were_ both plants or impostors, he had no right to play executioner and then say he did it for us. His execution will be needlessly cruel, that much I know, but although I _should_ feel terror, or triumph, or _despair_ , whatever, I feel only _anger_.

He had _no right_.

* * *

 _The killer, Dylan Miles, was preparing before there ever was a motive – of his own volition, he took the Monokuma pact and traded in the service of poisoning Evelyn for a skeleton key upgrade to his student ID._

 _Whether he sought to use it to protect is irrelevant – when faced with supposedly false claims by Matt Lucas and Boris Petrov about their position in the Future Foundation's third division, the 'butler' decided to act._

 _Aware of the commander's vigilance, Dylan likely cut out the bottom of his own door, using a shard of mirror glass to observe his movements – the moment the commander took his short break, Dylan slipped out of his own room, and into Matt's, clad in the school uniform Monokuma provided for everyone._

 _Without mercy, he stabbed the unfortunate DJ to death in his own bed, getting irrevocably splashed with blood – he discarded the slippers into the bin, and thought to frame the similarly-built Ulrick for the murder by leaving the bloodied uniform in the wardrobe._

 _Improvising a lure, the agent drew the commander into Matt's room, successfully trapping him inside – he was fortunate, considering that Farran's ID battery was fresh out of juice. Naked save for his underwear and murder weapon, Dylan was in the hallway._

 _This fortune persisted – able to evade the unforeseen appearance of his own earlier victim, Evelyn, the killer ducked into Boris' room, where he repeated the grim performance. This time, due to the room's layout, he withdrew to the bathroom to take a shower, getting rid of the blood._

 _Unable to determine when the Ghost Hunter was to return from her promenade, he moved the carpet in Boris' room, cutting away the rubber lining of the door, using the same mirror trick he used in his own room – the moment Evelyn was back in her room, he took care to return the knife to the kitchen, and retired to his room._

* * *

 **THE VOTE FOR THE BLACKENED IS… CORRECT!**

 **Dylan Miles, the** _ **Ultimate Covert Agent**_ **, has** _ **failed**_ **to graduate!**

The floor underneath his podium gives way – he falls down, into darkness.

We exchange nervous glances – the screens in front of us come to life, cutting to a darkened room…

* * *

 _The room is dark._

 _He feels something clasped to his arm, so hard that it's going numb. The wall behind him is cold, the way only solid steel can be – then it hits him – it's not a wall, but rather a table. He's lying on his back._

 _A light turns on, and Monokuma wanders over, giggling, apparently amused by the situation. It motions towards the darkness, only for another light to switch on, revealing a large mounted laser, dangling from the ceiling._

 _His heart is beating fast now. He sees lights, probably unnecessary but present all the same, coming to life across the side of the colossal laser – a countdown to his own death. The hulking contraption roars, and a cracking sound starts echoing through the room._

 _All the lights are on now – it's so bright he can barely see. He glances at his feet, noticing that a black spot is punched into the steel, veering ever more upward._

 _Audio cuts off as the laser makes it to his leg – it's only seconds before the black smoke obscures the worst of the carnage_

* * *

 **STUDENTS REMAINING: 13**

* * *

 **And thus, we bid adieu to Matt, Boris and Dylan, who were contributed by _Praegressus, TheRealCapitalistAnarchist_ and a user who has since removed their profile (and I thus assume they wish to remain anonymous) respectively.**

 **One more important thing - the story changes with your decisions regarding Freetimes.**

 **The first act's combination of _Asami, Liam, Solvia and Lucille_ (and, technically, Silver, although I chose to skip him because of the twist in this trial) has set our protagonist on a path - it's up to you, as the readers, to choose where that path leads.**

 **Depending on the votes, the characters involved in the final murder will change - someone who was set to survive might perish, and vice-versa. The poll is up again, of course.**

 _ **Hope**_ **you enjoyed the chapter!**


	14. Stage Five

**Not my best work, actually, but if I didn't upload anything this week, I would've eaten my foot.**

* * *

The ride back up is agonizing – between the glum looks, Amand's still obvious distaste for being in Ulrick's proximity and the shock of learning that it was the kind and composed Dylan that killed two of our colleagues… it wasn't good.

To try and trust someone in an environment like this… time and again, I have to remind myself that it's not their fault – ordinarily, they would never turn against their fellow agents, it's this place that brings out the darkness, and some have it worse than others…

I see my hands shaking, but I don't feel it. The high of righteous fury withdraws quickly, leaving me exhausted more than anything else.

"Everyone, listen up."

I turn to Farran – he's always the one that speaks up first.

I'm glad that we have someone who takes control like that, his at times obnoxious insistence aside – his presence helps keep the group cohesive and cooperating, at least superficially… sometimes, though, superficial is enough.

"In light of recent events," he begins, getting _everyone's_ attention, "I want to suggest something."

"Such as?" Asami replies, her voice flat and lifeless, very much unlike her usual vigorous tone.

"Roommates," he states, allowing a pause for us to wrap our heads around the suggestions, "it'll build trust, make subsequent attempts at murder much harder, and if, god forbid, this happens again, we'll have more solid alibis to rely on."

No one explicitly disagreed… but it was clear that this wasn't exactly something we'll be welcoming with open arms. After all, rooming up with someone is… or was, at least, difficult enough when the world was normal – this is a scenario that's _anything but_ normal…

"There's an odd number of people," Seina notes, "I'll stay alone."

"Can't this wait until we're in the common room?" Liam cuts in, getting nods from pretty much everyone; the same question was on the tip of my tongue as well.

"Fine…" Farran shakes his head, "but we need to handle this before lights-out, or we're just asking for trouble."

The trip from the elevator to the common room isn't a long one – we gather on the couches and floor, forming a semi-circle parallel to the panoramic window. Evelyn, still out cold, is placed in the armchair.

"Well, since Void handled our numbers issue, there shouldn't be any problem pairing up – two per room works, and the rules don't explicitly forbid sleeping in someone else's room."

"Uhm… how do we know this?" Lucille asks.

"So far, the rules have been almost identical to the ones of the original game," Solvia speaks up, "Naegi and Maizono weren't punished for switching rooms, and neither were Oogami and Asahina for sharing one."

"She does make a point…" Liam trailed off.

Before anyone else can speak up, a stir from Evelyn gets the room's attention – within seconds, Christine's at her side, feeling her forehead for temperature:

"Easy! You ok? Still faint?"

The speed with which she went about checking the ghost hunter raises a couple of eyebrows, but no one's going to grill the cosplayer on the source of her apparent medical training.

"Someone get her a glass of water!" she commands, then, seeing that no one made any motion to get to it: "NOW!"

With a shrug, Kenji leaves the room, returning with a glass of water barely half a minute later: "Here."

Evelyn drains the glass in one gulp, gently pushing her caretaker away and struggling to sit up. She's quite unnervingly pale, but other than that, she looks alright, considering.

"I'm alright… seriously, I am."

"He poisoned you!" Christine's retort is immediate.

"Who?"

Not waiting for an answer, she looks around the room, noting the three absent faces. Her neutral expression quickly degrades into a scowl:

"The _butler_ did it? That's… ugh…"

"Look, forget about all that, alright?" Silver speaks up, just now finding his voice, "You're ok – that's what counts."

"Shut up, Millner…" Amand hisses, crossing his arms, that dampened rage threatening to burn up again, "I'm _not_ through with you."

"You _are_ ," Farran cuts in, a smug grin on his face, "Silver's with _me_."

"I am?"

Farran nods.

"Like… in the same room?"

Another nod, slightly slower.

"Do you have any… ehm… _ulterior_ motives?" the pirate finishes, eyeing the American suspiciously.

I snicker, and I'm not the only one – the implication is clear, and everyone, even the comparatively dazed Evelyn, at least cracks a smirk.

Foundation or not, I don't think I'm wrong to think that Silver _is_ on our side. Sure, he might have his own reasons for, as he put it, _flaking_ , but mistakes happen, especially in this messed-up time of ours. If he can keep his optimism even after people were ready to lynch him, we ought to emulate the example rather than trying to tear it down…

" _No,"_ is the commander's answer.

"Oi!" Silver raises his voice, "you mean to tell me that," he motions vaguely to himself, "you don't find _this_ attractive!?"

Farran opens his mouth, but is cut off:

"I'll have you know that I've, at the height of my nautical career, of course, had _several_ women vying for my attention and good grace!"

"Several, you say?" Asami grins.

"Well…" he trails off, " _ **Two**_ counts as several, right?"

"Oh god…"

Somewhere amidst the face-palms and eye-rolling, Eve comes to her feet, shakily getting up. Christine, the apparently doting nurse, offers herself as support, but is ignored – she doesn't seem to take offense, however, looking more concerned for her colleague's well-being than whatever's going on between the pirate and commander.

"Could we go back to room assignment?" Kenji sighed, "as amusing and Ill-timed as Mr. Silver's antics are, this _has_ been a long day – I just want to pass out."

"Dibs on Rocket!" Asami takes it away, showing the same initiative that had the two of us 'searching' the elevator room a few days ago.

"Hey!" Liam protests, but it's more from habit than from actual opposition to the idea.

"In that case… Bretz?" Kenji raises an eyebrow.

"Sure," the stuntman shrugs, clearly tired of arguing.

As we slowly rearrange ourselves in the room, I catch Lucille giving me a smile as she passes by. My reaction… is untampered:

"I'm with DuCarde!" I all but shout.

"Oooh..." Silver grins, waggling his eyebrows.

"Shut up," I cross my arms, unable to restrain a smile. Lucille pretends that there's something terribly interesting in the corner of the room, refusing to meet anyone's eyes, her cheeks flushed red.

It takes a couple of seconds for the reality of what I've done to kick in. Oh, confident and assertive me, I hardly knew ye…

The reality of the situation is that I just volunteered to be roommates with a girl that's not only the sweetest person here, but also very, very hot. Like, _supernova_ hot. And I still haven't had the time to properly deal with the fact that I'm thinking of another woman as _hot…_ there's just so much going on right now, and between putting together Sol's puzzle and dealing with what happened…

Christ, I just want things to be ok again…

* * *

The logistics of the new room arrangement aren't that complicated – the boys dutifully transferred mattresses from one room to the other, and aside from a brief argument over whether Silver has music rights in their room, everything is settled more or less peacefully.

"It's been so long since I had a sleepover…" Lucille trails off, pulling out extra pillows from the wardrobe – she sleeps with two, apparently, "it will be fun, no?"

"Dunno," I shrug, "mind if I use the shower first?"

She deflates slightly at my own lack of enthusiasm, but recovers quickly enough:

"Not at all!" she chirps, "take all the time that you need."

Nodding, I grab my PJ's and a fresh set of undergarments, and slip into the bathroom. Slowly, with a newfound and completely uncomfortable awareness of my own body, I undress, packing away my now worn clothes into the corner I designated as my hypothetical laundry basket.

That done, I step into the shower, turn on the pleasantly warm water, then proceed curl up into a ball and _scream_ on the inside.

"…"

He _killed them_. Just… took that knife and didn't stop until they both stopped breathing. And the worst part of it all?

 _I'm not crying._

Normal people would freak out, cry for their mom or something – I'm just… angry. Angry with Miles for doing what he did, and angry with myself for the eagerness with which I slammed that vote button once his face came up…

I get righteous anger, but this wasn't that… this was _bloodlust_ , plain and simple. I wanted to see him _punished_ for what he did – and see it I did.

I… I don't want this place to change me. If I make it through this, I don't want to look into a mirror and not recognize the person looking back… This isn't some gathering of frightened students, this is targeted, planned ruination of good people, people who put their lives on the line in the name of hope…

"Ellie, is everything alright?" I hear Lucille's voice, muffled by both the door and the running water.

"No…" I sigh, standing up and grabbing the soap bar, "I'll be out in a minute."

I can't help but think back to the constant parallels people make between me and Naegi - is that the kind of person they see me as? That man is a hero, a force of hope that stood up to something darker than black, and won. Trying to live up to such an ideal… it's going to be impossible.

How am I supposed to be something I'm not, just because everyone else decided that's who I'm going to be for them? Naegi took that role on willingly, driven by his hope and his need to get justice for his friends – I'm just a survivor.

Ok… enough dwelling on that shit.

"Yo," I step back into the room, finding it somehow more _girly_. Nothing's been added, and I'm fairly sure that the room is no more pink than it was an hour ago, and yet the feeling persists… strange.

"Finished already?" she asks, cleverly pretending that I wasn't curled into a ball of misery for the past half-hour.

"Yup," I force a smile, a bit surprised with how authentic it ends up feeling.

" _Bon!_ " she exclaims, grabbing a bundle of cloth and silk and disappearing behind the door, "I won't be long."

* * *

 _Freetime: Lucille 2_

I'm starting to see spots on the ceiling when she steps out, clad in an oversized tee and plain grey boxers.

Although her hair's now a mess, the usual fun locks now squished and flat, giving her an even more tomboyish look, she still looks way better than me – it's not just the legs… and _my god_ , those legs… but even her _skin…_

I'm feeling so self-conscious about not shaving my legs right now – I'm sooo glad there's a set of pajamas for me to wear and hide my shame with…

"Done!" she exclaims, bubbly as ever. Though, if I'm honest, she did clock in about as much time as I did – I guess freaking out to yourself is just common courtesy here.

She hops to the mattress on the floor, stretching out – if I didn't know any better, I'd think she was showing off intentionally…

"Hey… you can have the bed if you want."

"Mm?" she turns around, blinking, "oh, _merci,_ but I'll be alright here."

"You sure? I got _no_ problem sleeping anywhere – it's like my other talent."

"Well…"

"Alright, cool," I leap up, running a hand through my always-ragged hair, "how about-"

"No, stay there," she pouts, looking slightly annoyed, "what I wanted to say is…"

"Yeah?"

She puffs her cheeks, now clearly annoyed: "Ma! You are so quick! Give me a second to think!"

I quiet down immediately, slumping back down onto the bed. Memories of being a little kid and being told to sit down come to my mind, and I can't help but be amused at the dissonance between that time and the present – it's a grim sort of amusement, but still.

She takes a moment to calm herself, then speaks: "It's ok – I'll be alright here. Thank you for offering."

"Sorry."

I just throw out the word, unable to find the appropriate timing – she doesn't seem to mind it, though, giving a small smile and pulling up her knees in front of her. I notice her toes wiggling as she continues:

" _Je suis juste fatigue,_ " she sighs, putting her arms around her knees and curling up into a ball, "all of this is just too much, _mon ami_."

"It is," I nod, "but I'm here – I'll watch your back," the smile that follows is my best shot, but unlike the ones before, I don't feel nearly as happy with it as I wanted to.

" _Merci_ …" she returns the smile, closing her eyes for a second, "… I was really scared..."

"Everyone was," I'm quick to reply.

"…for you," she finishes.

"…"

She looks up at me with those pretty green eyes, a mix of happiness and concern making her expression:

"I'm just happy it's over now."

I'm all over the place tonight, but this brings me right back. In the forefront of my mind, before the trial, before survival, before my damn legs… there's just one, all-encompassing thought.

 _I need to protect her._

If this place gets to either of us, the story ends. I'll never know how this turns out – never get to see the story through to the end, whatever it is. I don't want that to happen.

I guess… I guess this is how it feels.

This is what it's like to fall.

* * *

 **The leads for the vote so far are _Kenji_ and _Lucille_ , tied at 3. The runners-up are _Solvia, Silver, Hoshika, Evelyn_ and _Seina_ (poor guys, not getting picked xD)**

 **Hope you enjoyed the chapter!**


	15. The Justice

**Glad to know that all it takes for me to write is a bout of seriously inconvenient insomnia!**

* * *

I'm up way before Lucille even stirs. Muffling the wakeup alarm is easy enough – disassembling the TV enough to un-jack the audio subsystem is a bit harder, but I seem to manage well enough, since Monokuma doesn't show up to pester me. She deserves the rest, and I deserve the knowledge that she'll be safe.

My step is shaky, shorter than usual – yesterday's 'victory' still has me off-balance, but I'm recovering fast. Then again, there was no other way to go about it, lest I find myself six feet under several decades ahead of schedule. That would be unfortunate.

We need to escape… that much is obvious, but the how is the stumbling point, rather than the what, of course.

Now… what's my next move?

Clearly, prevention isn't the way to go about it. Although the commander's efforts were noble, all it took was a single disturbance to ruin them, and destroy the already fragile balance.

Escape? Unlikely, yes, but by far it's the best choice. Splashing onto the ground below might be preferable to awaiting the tender mercies of this damn place, after all.

My wandering gets me to the kitchen. Someone already put the kettle on.

"Good morning, Doerner."

The voice is difficult to mistake. The fact that he's referring to me by my last name is even more so.

"Mai," I mock-curtsey at him. Might as well, seeing as we're doing the _proper_ things.

He sighs, clearly catching on to the fact that I'm not taking him seriously. With a shrug, he turns back to the kettle, pouring its contents out into several neatly arranged cups on a tray.

"Sleep well?" he asks.

"As if," I frown, looking him over.

Contrary to his usual appearance, he wasn't wearing his jacket, nor did he tie his hair. It's the most casual I've seen him look, and it's an oddly endearing sight – for a second, I actually consider Kenji Mai to be a human being.

* * *

 _Freetime: Kenji 1_

"So…" I trail off, wondering how to start a conversation, "…actually, I don't know how to start a conversation with you."

He gives me a look as if I'm a particularly troublesome infant, then turns back to his fine brewing.

"No, seriously. Like… how are you doing?"

"I'm trapped atop a tower, likely to be killed," he deadpans, "you?"

"Eh, much of the same."

"Sucks to be us," he shrugs.

"You're a downer."

" _Realist_ ," he corrects.

"You think we could get used to this?" I ask, entertaining a wild idea.

"Being isolated, limited to a mere handful of people to interact with, forced to trust the supposedly automatically replenishing resources?"

"Yes, that," I clamber onto the counter and sit down, legs dangling above the linoleum.

"Maybe…" he considers it, looking away from the slowly bubbling kettle, "in theory, you could get used to these people, create some kind of quasi-community, but…"

"What?"

"Despair. No matter how much you want to blind yourself to it, it exists, and it's a force each and every one of us has to struggle with on a daily basis."

"Yes, but if we _pretended…_ "

"Just don't, ok?" he sighs, "I know you're trying to be our own Naegi, but don't bother."

This, naturally, pisses me off.

"Hey, back off," I almost hiss, "I'm trying to talk to you."

He adjusts his glasses, giving me a long look and a very slow nod.

"Alright, assume I'm giving you the benefit of doubt. I can't logically draw a conclusion from a single sample, despite the thoroughness of my observation. What now?"

My answer takes a second to articulate, but my lack of hesitation with it is surprising, even to me:

"We survive, as many of us as possible."

"Survival?"

"It's the _realist_ choice."

He smirks at that, removing the kettle from the stove. He pours out the water with a practiced hand, filling out half the cups in one go.

"Hmm…"

"What?"

"Nothing, I was just fantasizing."

"No, c'mon, tell me."

"It's really nothing serious, Doerner," he laughs it off, but there's a vague unease to the way he does it, which is strange, because I don't really see Kenji as someone who gets uneasy.

Then again, I never thought of myself as a person who gets uneasy, so perhaps my perception of reality was limited up until recently. Let it be said that, even when stuck atop a tower, trapped in a killing game, Eleanor Millie Doerner is open minded.

"I _insist_. Didn't Farran say we ought to trust people? Trust me."

"That is _not_ how you get people to trust you."

"I know", I shrug, "was worth a shot."

He chuckles at that.

"Maybe… maybe it was."

* * *

 _Freetime: Silver 1_

I step out of the kitchen, only to see something thrown at me. With surprising reflexes (which shouldn't be _that_ surprising, considering), I catch it, staring in disbelief at my new umbrella.

"En garde!" Silver shouts, brandishing his own umbrella like a fencing sword.

Without even thinking, I swing to the side, deflecting his blow.

"What the hell!" I laugh, backpedaling slowly through the hallway, "I _did not_ expect this, Silver!"

"One never does expect the pirate!" he explains, flailing his cloak-jacket around to obscure his movements, "I strike in the dead of night, plundering all the booty!"

I pause. His fearsome blow decelerates enough to be only a mildly uncomfortable prod to the left breast.

"You didn't."

"Didn't what?" he asks, confused.

"Make an anal joke."

He grins from ear to ear: "Maaaaaaybe?"

"Die!"

I go on the offensive, reclaiming the lost meters of hallway with each and every blow. My blade (umbrella) is steady, my eyes focused.

"Oi! Calm your…" he glances at my _modest_ bosom, "… ehm, self."

That does it, he's going down.

"Ahyaaaaaaak!"

"Jesus!"

In the end, however, I don't kill him. We crash in the game room, thoroughly exhausted, and mildly embarrassed due to Hoshika catching us _fencing_ … which sounds dirtier than it is, really.

I sink into the beanbag chair, wondering whether there's enough spare clothes to make up for the fact that I'm sweaty and thus likely to change again.

"Yo, Silver."

"Sup?"

"Sorry you're not Foundation anymore."

"Oh…" he deflates.

"It's not right that people hold that against you, y'know? It's a lot of stress, fighting for people, and wanting to be one of the people we fight for should be ok, right?"

"No."

Wait, now he's persuading me? Isn't it supposed to be…

"No, it ain't right", he frowns, "I guess I shouldn't have left."

"Hey, don't' worry, alright? First we get out of here, then you can…"

"Ah, but of course!" he leaps to his feet, as if the swashbuckling was no effort. Come to think of it, it probably wasn't… _for him_.

"I'll just live long enough to redeem myself, then!" he exclaims, grin as wide as ever.

"Atta boy."

I want to say more, but not only am I exhausted, I'm uncertain… The idea of redemption is an appealing one, but if I jump on his bandwagon now, I don't know if I could bear to see him die.

The fool, always ready for action, always oblivious to what that action entails… yet, heroic in his own way all the same.

* * *

After my shower, I crash at the main room couch, watching the city below through the panoramic windows. So far away…

Sol and Lucille showed up for a little while, but pretty much everyone's always on the move today, still unsettled by yesterday's trial. Can't say I blame them, not really.

Still, the problem of getting away remains… if only we could-

"GUYS!" Liam's voice rings out, "THE WALL. IT'S GONE. THERE'S A DOWNSTAIRS!"

That.

* * *

 **Do let me know if any of you that originally read this story are still around, still interested. If so, I'll gladly stick with this story, if not... well, there's always _something_ to write, right?**


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